


A Strange Set of Circumstances: The Goblet of Fire

by Azorrah_lee



Series: A Strange Set of Circumstance [4]
Category: Glee, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, Fantasy, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 01:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 90,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15853719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azorrah_lee/pseuds/Azorrah_lee
Summary: Things are changing, Kurt and his friends aren't aware of just what is becoming of the world.  Will they be able to tell the wood from the trees in the midst of Love, adventure and new friendship.





	1. Chapter 1

“Kreacher,” a cold smile spread on the beautiful woman’s aged face, “Come to mistress.”

The bent, aged house elf approached his regal mistress, bowing as he came closer, “Kreacher lives to serve the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”

“Tell me Kreacher,” the woman paused to sip her cup of tea before straightening her perfectly styled snow white hair, “what happened on the twenty-seventh of May, nineteen-eighty-one?” She pulled out a compact and powdered her nose, “And please save the theatrics of ignorance for somebody who cares.”

“Kreacher was forbidden to speak of it,” the house elf looked terrified and deeply conflicted, “but Kreacher must obey mistress.”

“Ah,” the regent of the Noble and Most Ancient House Black got to her feet and drummed her finger tips together sinisterly, a smirk marring her beautiful face, “so there is an ‘it’, I was afraid my imagination was running away with me.”

The fear on Kreacher’s face grew as he violently shook his head, “Kreacher has said too much.”

“To the contrary,” the smile on her face matched the ominous tone in the woman’s voice, “I think you haven’t said enough.” She circled around the spot where Kreacher knelt in the middle of the Victorian drawing room, “I am the Regent of this house, the dowager Lady Black and as such my authority overrides that of all other members of this house.”

Kreacher thought for a moment, running the idea over in his mind, before deciding to go for dead, “there was a child, a boy, and I was told to kill him but a house elf cannot harm one of his masters even at the command of another master.”

“A child,” the lady pursed her lips in satisfaction, “I thought as much but if nobody knew then it must be the work of the fidelius charm rather than a confundus charm. But why?”

“A prophecy from Argyris Mopsus,” Kreacher proclaimed in a tone that was indicative of how he was pained by the burden of this secret.

“Those superstitious fools,” the Dowager Lady Black shook her head in disapproval before schooling her features as she wondered into thought, “What became of the boy after you failed to dispose of him?”

“I left him on the doorstep of some muggles,” Kreacher was fast developing a nervous twitch; the more he said, the more the twitch grew, “I’ve watched the young master growing all this time.”

“Is he at Hogwarts?” She lifted a quizzical brow as she spoke, “I can’t for the life of me understand why this child would need to be disposed of.”

“Kreacher doesn’t know if he’s at Hogwarts,” for a moment Kreacher seemed more afraid of failing his mistress than he was of speaking, “Kreacher can find out if mistress would like.”

The Dowager Lady Black smiled broadly, “Mistress would like that very much Kreacher.”

~0~

_The Previous Afternoon…_

Kurt stretched his muscles as he stepped out of the plane on to the Exeter International Airport tarmac, it had been a long day of flying for both him and Finn but Finn looked fresh and invigorated- not that Kurt looked a mess- but Kurt couldn’t help the pang of jealousy as he witnessed his brother besting him at jet setting. Kurt and Finn had flown halfway around the world in less than ten hours thanks to supersonic flight, stopping in two cities on the way, but it was not without cost; Kurt’s head was left spinning as a result, on the plus side he had read that you lost one and half percent body mass when you flew west to east at great speeds.

The pair of brothers stepped into the terminal building and Finn collected their bags, “how is it that your bag is so damn heavy?” the taller boy complained, “Consistently and without fail.”

“I feel like I just spent eight weeks on another continent,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I needed options, you know the formula.”

Finn raised a brow, “Then why would you send out your dry cleaning so often if you had four outfits for everyday?”

“I wasn’t going to put dirty clothes in my suitcase with my clean ones,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “besides, this is just casual clothes, the rest went home with Dad and Carole.”

Finn stopped dead in his tracks, blocking the path out of Arrivals, “from now on you carry your own bags. Your school trunk is at least enchanted to be light, this thing is too damn heavy.”

“That’s why it has wheels,” Kurt shook his head in disappointment.

Finn’s jaw dropped, “And all this time you’ve been letting me carry it?”

“I thought it was a personal preference,” Kurt shrugged, rolling his eyes at his brother.

Finn’s eye twitched, “I think it’s good that we’re getting sometime apart. Spending all year together was the worst idea ever, we should have let you go to South America alone.”

“Firstly, I recall you all begging me not to leave you alone with each other ever again. Secondly, we both know the only reason we’re irritable is because Harley cried the entire flight from Lima to New York,” Kurt cringed at the memory, “which is why we left them to wait for the normal flight.”

“And before that she wouldn’t stop talking,” Finn cracked his back in frustration, “For somebody with a limited vocabulary she is surprisingly chatty.”

Kurt laughed, “Now that you’ve remembered that it’s not me you're angry at.” Kurt pointed a finger over his shoulder, “there’s a ginger over there with my name written all over him.”

“Oh my gosh,” Finn gasped, “I’m on my way to Cedric, you can’t be running off with other men.”

“Firstly, he has a sign with my name on it,” Kurt cracked a smile, “Secondly, red hair means he’s probably a Weasley and I am on my way Château Weasley. Thirdly, I’m not going to cheat on Cedric Diggory with one of Ron’s brothers, that would ruin my relationship and one of my better friendships.” Kurt rolled his eyes one more time before turning away from his brother, “Goodbye Finnocence, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you,” Finn shouted at Kurt as he walked away.

Kurt smiled broadly, Kurt loved attention but Finn adored it more, “I love you too darling.”

Kurt pulled his luggage over to where young man was standing waiting for him, Kurt didn’t immediately recognise him as one of the Weasleys he knew but was able to deduce that it was one of the older brothers. This Weasley bore closer resemblance to Fred and George than he did to Ron but his hair was darker, the colour of burnt copper so rich that it almost looked brown to the untrained eye; a colour Kurt had become familiar with thanks to Carole’s substandard cooking and the countless number of pots she had destroyed. At first glance he looked to be tanned but upon further inspection revealed himself to be heavily freckled, what allowed Kurt to identify him was the burn that was healing as it crept out of his collar from his left shoulder.

Kurt smiled and extended a friendly hand, “Hi, I’m Kurt Hummel, and you must be Charles.”

“Charlie. They told you I’d be coming, great,” Charlie gave Kurt a lopsided smile and sweeping glance before nodding toward the door, “it’s nice to know some of Ron’s friends are real.”

“No, they just told me somebody would be here when I got here,” Charlie raised a curious brow as he shook Kurt’s hand, “I knew you were Charlie because he works with dragons and you got yourself burned which means you can’t be Bill because he’s responsible and focused, too focused for such carelessness.”

“Wow,” Charlie chuckled, beckoning Kurt to follow him, “Ron was not joking, you’re an ice cold bitch. He tried to warn me but I thought you were imaginary based on the other things he’d told me about you so I didn’t listen.”

Kurt pursed his lips in contemplation as he gave the young man a once over; he wore distressed jeans, too many layers under his bomber jacket, he had sparse facial hair that was a paler copper than his hair and as for his hair, it went too far past the top of his ears for Kurt’s liking, “you look like you're full of shit, listen to music that you think most people haven’t heard of and believe yourself to be too smart to take yourself seriously.” Kurt pursed his lips in satisfaction, “I shall call you Hipster Weasley.”

Charlie chuckled at Kurt’s assessment of him as he led the boy through a sparsely filled parking lot, he didn’t struggle with Kurt’s bag as Finn had but rather took it in stride. When they’d come to a remote part of the parking lot, hidden from the view of most, Hipster Weasley extended his hand toward Kurt. Kurt looked at the hand, “you're supposed to take it.”

“I know what I’m supposed to do with it,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “but I think the callouses on your hand cut me when I was shaking it, you hold the knife by the blade once, then next time you use the handle.” Kurt weaved his arm around Charlie’s elbow so that they were side by side and arm in arm like he and Hermione often were, “shall we?”

“Why of course,” Charlie gave a lopsided grin. There was a familiar tugging feeling in the pit of Kurt’s stomach and a distinct pop as they apparited away. Kurt was thrown for a loop when he didn’t hit solid ground but rather found himself hanging from the edge of a very tall narrow building by the arm he had hooked around Charlie’s arm, “whoops, if only I were as responsible and focused as Bill, maybe I would have been able to apparite properly and accurately.”

“Oh honey,” Kurt smiled up at the boy, “if you’re expecting an apology then you have the wrong boy.” Kurt let go of Charlie’s arm and let himself and his suitcase fall to the ground, he grabbed his wand with his free hand, “Arresto momentum.”

Kurt slowed to near a dead stop before gently touching down on the grass in front of what he was realising was a house, whilst Kurt was straightening himself up the door to his left opened and out came Ginny Weasley with a great big smile on her face, “Kurt, you’re here.” She hugged him and then took a step back to look around, “where’s Charlie?”

“On the roof,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “he threw me off the roof.”

Ginny tilted her head and squinted, trying see her brother, “Come down from there, mum won’t be happy.”

“Do you know that your friend said that Bill wouldn’t have gotten burnt like I did,” Charlie lit a cigarette as spoke down to Ginny from the roof.

“So you decided to throw him off the roof?” Ginny furrowed her brows, “not very bright.”

“I didn’t throw him,” Charlie crossed his arms defensively and Kurt giggled silently at what a good job Ginny was doing at scolding her older brother, “I merely dangled him off the edge. He’s the one who let go.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Kurt used his hand as a visor so he could look up without getting the sun in his eyes, “the burn is on your left shoulder, meaning that isn’t your wand hand. Ron’s hand me down wand was a right-handed wand and Bill is left handed.”

“Please tell me how you know that Mr Hummel?”

Kurt turned on his heels to face a slender young woman with a lopsided smile leaning against the door frame, “Hermione Jean Granger, love of my life.”

“Don’t let Cedric hear you saying that,” his best friend scolded as she hugged him tightly, “God I missed you. How was Peru?”

Ginny rolled her eyes at the pair before muscling past them into the house as she called out into the house, “mum, Kurt’s here. And so is Hermione.”

Kurt raised a brow, “You just got here as well?”

“I took the floo network from Diagon Alley with Bill, I didn’t even notice that he was left handed,” Hermione shrugged nonchalantly, “don’t deflect, tell me about Peru.”

“Peru was Peruvian,” Kurt shrugged as he took a step back to drink in puberty’s work on Hermione’s body, “time has been good to you, you look like a million bucks and your boobs are miles better than Mandy Bracklehurst’s.”

Hermione giggled, taking a small bow, “you look exquisite as usual.”

“I never get tired of hearing it,” Kurt smiled, gazing at Hermione in awe of her glow; she was normally a beautiful girl but there was something breathe taking developing behind the unkept eyebrows, the bushy hair and the braces; the braces, “You got your braces removed.”

“Over the summer, yes, now I only have to wear a retainer when I sleep,” Hermione smiled broadly for a moment before bringing up a hand to shyly cover her smile, Kurt was certain he wasn’t the only one who would notice how… grown Hermione was looking.

As he and Hermione silently appreciated each other’s company, they were disturbed by Mrs Weasley. Mrs Weasley stood before them in a tope and white striped summer dress, she wore a broad smile and pulled both Hermione and Kurt into bone crushing hugs that reminded Kurt that she was more used to a different kind of boy.

“Hermione, you look lovely,” Mrs Weasley cupped Hermione’s face as she looked up to the now taller girl before turning to Kurt, “Kurt, you’re so thin.”

“Oh my gosh,” Kurt interjected before she could threaten to fatten him up, “thank you.”

Mrs Weasley was taken aback for a moment before shaking her head in disbelief, “Well, I just wanted to let you two know that you can make yourselves at home and if there’s anything you need just shout.”

“Now that you-” Kurt’s request for a chai tea was cut off by Hermione elbowing him in the ribs, “nothing, I just wanted to thank you for opening your home to us.”

“We’ll be sure to shout,” Hermione gave a polite nod before turning to Kurt and giving him a look of death.

“Bill,” Mrs Weasley yodelled across the kitchen, a tall thin man that strongly resembled Ron but with longer hair and edgier air to him appeared out of nowhere, “would you take Hermione’s bag up to Ginny’s room and put Kurt’s in Fred and George’s room.”

“Nobody’s been in Fred and George’s room all summer,” the handsome man spoke in a velvety deep voice, “I’m not sure it’s safe for human consumption, let alone guests.”

“Oh right, what with the explosions and all,” Mrs Weasley furrowed her brow, “put him in Charlie’s room, seeing as he likes heights so much he can sleep in Ron’s room or better yet the attic.”

Charlie suddenly apparited into the room with his hands held up in surrender, “now mum, I didn’t know you knew I was up there. I’m sorry but you can’t do that, I’m a grown man and I need my privacy.”

“Is that a cigarette?” Mrs Weasley raised a precautionary so magnificently that Kurt was both frightened and jealous. Charlie’s hand darted out and snatched the cigarette from where it hung between his lips but the damage was done, “since when do you smoke?”

“Mum,” Charlie slowly backed away from his simmering mother, “I… well…” Charlie turned to a giggling Kurt and pointed an accusatory finger, “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” Kurt pursed his lips, “what happened to being a grown man?”

“Why I ought to bring you straight back from Romania,” Mrs Weasley finally scolded as her slow simmer came to a boil, “You’re lucky I don’t tan your hide right now.” Mrs Weasley huffed loudly and balanced her fists on the kitchen table, “Charlie and Bill, you go set up outside. Hermione and Ginny can help me in the kitchen.”

She turned to Kurt and he knew she didn’t know what to do with him, “I’ll go make myself even more beautiful.”

“Mum,” Ginny groaned, “I don’t want to help in the kitchen.”

“And what would you do?” Mrs Weasley’s fists moved from the table top to her hips, “tell me what you would rather do while I slave away in the kitchen? The woman are working in the kitchen, why should you be exempt?”

Ginny was silent and Kurt took this as his queue, “Why don’t I help you in the kitchen and Ginny can go help Charlie and Bill.”

“As lovely a gesture as that may be,” Mrs Weasley gave him a maternal smile much like Carole often did when he behaved out of the ordinary, it said ‘I don’t understand you but I love you’. Kurt knew what came next but he let it happen, “Ginny belongs here in the kitchen with me.”

“Why?” Ginny rolled her eyes at her mother.

“Because it’s what woman do honey,” Mrs Weasley gave Ginny the same look she’d just given Kurt, “it’s the way things are.”

“It’s not necessarily the way things should stay,” Hermione objected, “it’s the nineties and woman can be and do whatever they want; look at woman like Margaret Thatcher, Winnie Mandela, Hillary Clinton and Gloria Steinem.”

“I think I’ve only heard of the first,” Mrs Weasley furrowed her brow, “muggle lady, right?”

“She was the muggle Prime Minister,” Kurt nodded, “People hated her for making hard, and maybe wrong, decisions mostly because she was a woman.”

“Winnie Mandela is a South African Freedom fighter,” Hermione continued to explain, “she fought against apartheid alongside her husband despite the fact that many believed that she should have been home with her kids, South Africa became a democratic country this year.” Hermione gave a gentle smile, “Hillary Clinton is the American First Lady although she might make a better President than her husband. The point is that for so long woman have been marginalised and now we’re taking our place on par with men, that may mean shaking up ideas of where we belong.”

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips and looked broodingly at Ginny, “suppose this means you’ll be wanting to play quidditch?”

“More than anything,” Ginny smiled broadly, “more than I’ve wanted anything before in my life.”

“Very well,” Mrs Weasley nodded slowly, “have the boys teach you a thing or two when you’re done.” Mrs Weasley threw Ginny’s apron at Kurt and another at Hermione, “now tell me about Gloria Steinem.”

Kurt picked up a knife and smiled as he got to work, “she’s a famous journalist and author.”

“And Kurt worships her,” Hermione teased.

Kurt turned to face her and stopped chopping shallots, pointing the knife at Hermione, “I respect her writing.”

“You’re letting Kurt handle knives,” Harry walked in from the living room with Ron following close behind him, “brave.”

“Well, Harry Potter,” Kurt gave a villainous smile whilst Mrs Weasley hugged and welcomed Harry to her home, “the urge to commit murder only possesses me in your presence.”

“I wonder if I should be flattered or afraid,” Harry gave Kurt a soft punch on the shoulder.

“Afraid,” Ron added with a loud chuckle, “definitely afraid.”

“Ronald,” Kurt rolled his eyes as he went back to chopping after a reprimanding glare from Mrs Weasley, speaking over his shoulder, “Don’t make me drop this forcefully through the top of your head.”

“As entertaining as that may sound I don’t think you would fare well in Azkaban,” Mr Weasley chuckled as he apparited into the room, shaking Kurt’s hand then Hermione’s.

“Kurt would rule Azkaban,” George cheered loudly.

“And become the second person to escape,” Fred added jovially, “just like, burn his way out.”

“The dementors would never be ready for those blue flames,” George exclaimed as he and George high-fived.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “Ron, you had to tell them about the blue flames?”

“You warmed Neville’s face from across the lake,” Ron whined, “how could I not tell people?”

Kurt turned to Harry and Hermione, “you know that Ron has talked us up so much that Hipster Weasley thinks we’re imaginary.”

“Hipster Weasley?” the Weasleys all chorused.

“I don’t remember a Hipster,” Mr Weasley scratched his head, “There was Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ginny. No Hipster.”

“Dad!” Ron exclaimed in a high pitched voice, “you forgot me!”

“Ron,” Mr Weasley gave a weak smile, “I’d forgotten about you.”

“Charles,” Kurt clarified.

“Why does he get a nickname?” Fred crossed his arms angrily.

“We don’t have a nickname,” George bowed his head in defeat.

“I call you two Fred and George even when there’s one of you,” Kurt shrugged, “that should count for something.”

“That just means you can’t tell us apart,” the pair chorused angrily. Kurt pointed at one then the other and identified each by name, “He’s solved it, what do we do now? Switch clothes!”

“Well I’ll be,” Mr Weasley gave a broad smile, “I’ve been trying to solve that one for years. Speaking of Fred and George,” Mr Weasley cleared his throat and the room with one small cough. They all moved out into the garden where Bill and Charlie were duelling with tables in the air.

Hermione pulled Kurt aside and spoke in a whisper, “When Mrs Weasley says ‘shout if you need something’ she doesn’t mean ask her for a chai tea, this isn’t the Four Seasons and she is not your chamber maid.”

“It’s scary that you knew I was going to ask for a chai tea,” Kurt looked her up and down suspiciously, “I’m sorry but she offered, when Carole offers she means it.”

“Carole is your step-mother,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “you can’t treat other people like you treat her.”

“Okay,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I get it; no asking for tea and, I guess, no complaining if the sheets aren’t warmed.”

“Good,” Hermione turned three hundred and sixty degrees on her heels, “I also told her _Coq a Vin_ is your favourite food in a letter. She remembered you were a fussy eater and it was the first thing that came to my mind.”

“Because I like wine?” Kurt smiled broadly, “I will love it as much as my dead soul allows; I never complain about Carole’s cooking and the only thing she can cook is Stroganoff, but man does she cook it well.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Bill called over at the pair.

“We were discussing your hair,” Kurt gave a false smile, “I think it reminds me too much of Mr Malfoy’s hair.”

“I think I don’t care,” Hermione mirrored the smile, “normal teenage stuff.”

Bill chuckled, “you could have said it was secret instead of insulting me you know.”

“You still haven’t told us how you knew Bill was left handed,” Ginny pointed out as she whizzed over their heads on an old broomstick.

“Where is Neville when I need him to tell people that I’m Kurt Elizabeth Hummel?” Kurt chuckled to himself, “It was on his Head Student Profile, they have all of them since Hogwarts opened in this great big book that used to be on display in the foyer a couple of hundred years ago. They fill it in for sport these days.”

“Let me guess,” Harry tilted his head upward, watching Ginny fly, “it’s in the hall of records?”

“Yep,” Kurt and Hermione chorused.

“Ron was right,” Bill shook his head in disbelief, “it’s even freakier when they do it. Ron, right? What is the world coming to?”

“You two should really take us to the hall of records sometime,” Ron said, ignoring the subtle insult from his brother.

“We can’t get you to read in the library,” Hermione chortled “I doubt you’ll be interested in old tomes and codices filled with lists of names of people who are mostly dead, old school administrative documents and revision upon revision of the school rules.”

“Ron did mention you were boring,” Charlie teased the pair.

Ron turned bright red before posing his denial, “I would never say such a thing.”

“What exactly did Ron say about us?” Kurt quirked a curios brow.

Ron gave his brothers a pleading stare and Charlie returned it with a dark smile, “we’ve covered ice cold bitch, right?”

“You’re the worst,” Ron sighed.

“So I guess we start with when he said Hermione was bossy,” Bill nodded his head in agreement with Charlie as he spoke, “then he called you both boy crazy nerds.”

Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, “you should hear the things I tell my siblings, Harley thinks so little of you Ron.”

“I contest to being called bossy; that is so sexist, if I were a boy you would call me authoritative and admire me for it. As for boy crazy,” Hermione turned to Ron and spoke in a firm voice, “that’s absurd, I demand you take it back, take it all back.”

“That’s not bossy at all,” Bill teased Hermione as they sat around the long table they had formed by placing two picnic tables head to head.

“Don’t you start with me,” Hermione scolded in reply and a flabbergasted Bill shrunk in his seat.

“I think Ron is confusing people actually wanting to date us with being boy crazy because he has a chronicle case of singleness,” Kurt teased his friend, tugging his too long hair.

“Besides,” Hermione crossed her arms indignantly, “You didn’t make any mention of Harry Potter serial dating the Ravenclaw girls.”

“You know Finn cried for like a week straight until Cedric made me promise him I hadn’t dated Padma,” Harry whined angrily, “I hate that rumour because I dated one Ravenclaw girl.”

“Harry didn’t get a description at all,” Charlie pointed out, “we just got a name and it was enough said.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Bill shrugged, recovering from Hermione’s rebuke of his observation of her bossiness, “Percy said that in his expert opinion as a former head boy, you two were most likely to make head boy and girl in your seventh year.”

“Fred and George did also say you were as smart as you are mean,” Charlie gave the pair another one of his lopsided smirks, “but mostly Ron made it seem like we were having You-Know-Who over.”

“He does that often enough,” Kurt and Hermione chorused, before shrugging and crossing their arms in perfect unison.

“Definitely scarier when you do it,” Harry chortled, “Fred and George haven’t got a thing on you two.”

“Speaking of Fred and George,” Hermione began.

“Why are they in trouble?” Kurt finished for her.

“They dropped a sweet and my cousin, Duddly, ate it because he’s on an imposed diet,” Harry explained, “it made his tongue swell up.”

“Allergies,” Kurt shook his head.

“Probably peanuts,” Hermione completed the statement for him, at this point they were mainly completing each other’s sentences for entertainment value.

Ron shook his head, “it was a ton tongue toffee.”

“It speaks,” Kurt and Hermione chorused.

Kurt knitted his brow in confusion, “I’ve never heard of a ton tongue toffee.”

“Neither have I and I love toffee,” Hermione mirrored Kurt’s facial expression.

“But you couldn’t eat toffee because of your braces,” Kurt pointed out.

“And you don’t like sweet things,” Hermione shrugged, “maybe we just missed it.”

“Not likely,” Ron interrupted their private conversation, “it’s Fred and George’s own invention.”

“I guess mum is still upset about their poor OWL results,” Charlie shrugged.

“Only a handful a piece and not a single outstanding,” Bill shook his head solemnly, “Didn’t help that Percy got six ‘outstanding’ passes on his NEWTs.”

“But because of the world cup tomorrow and the fact that we all already have tickets,” Ginny tossed the broomstick aside and slipped in between Kurt and Ron, “they won’t get grounded.”

“Why are they making toffee?” Harry asked, furrowing his brow, “like I get that it’s a cool prank but why toffee?”

“It’s part of a line of products we’re making,” Fred appeared out of nowhere.

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” George continued, “we’ve been testing them on Ron all summer.”

“Hey,” Ron protested but nobody paid him any mind.

“And we wanted to see if it worked on sentient beings,” they chorused gleefully, clearly they’d been let of scotch free other than the scolding. Kurt couldn’t help laughing as Harry pointed out that his cousin wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree and as such not a good test; their conversation filled most of the evening and went on even after dinner was served, late into the night.

~0~

Kurt was less than impressed when they had begun their blind hike late as a result of Harry and Ron’s failure to rise on time, despite being warned the previous night at dinner. Their group of eight was stretched out in dribs and drabs; in front was Mr Weasley, followed closely by Hermione and Kurt, a fair distance back were Fred, Ginny and George, and bringing up the rear were Harry and Ron. Bill and Charlie would be appariting to the World Cup Final sight, Percy would be arriving in his professional capacity as a ministry official, and Mrs Weasley had elected to stay home with her knitting.

“Arthur, you’re late!” a squat man with gold rimmed spectacles scolded from where he sat under a tree.

“Sorry Amos,” Mr Weasley gave the man a firm handshake before pulling him into a manly hug, “some of us had a sleepy start.”

“Kurt,” Cedric and Finn chorused as one fell from the tree above and latter rose from a pile of leaves like a zombie.

Kurt clutched his chest dramatically and feigned surprise, out the corner of his eye he saw Cedric rolling his eyes, “Finn told you we were planning this, didn’t he?”

“Of course I did,” Finn shook his head as if stating the obvious, “I value my life.”

Cedric laced his fingers into Kurt’s, looked longingly into Kurt’s eyes and pressed his forehead against Kurt’s fore head, “How are you beautiful?”

Kurt took a deep breath and it seemed as though the air was more oxygen rich, he gave a small shy smile, “I’m well and yourself?”

“Better now,” Cedric gave him a chaste kiss and Kurt’s heart smiled broadly.

“Bless my soul,” Amos cried out, “it’s Harry Potter.”

“Nice of you two to join us,” Hermione teased.

Kurt watched the middle aged man shake Harry’s hand, “Amos Diggory.”

Kurt raised a finely sculpted brow and turned to Cedric quizzically and spoke in a tone that was almost accusatory, “that’s your father?”

Kurt’s message was well received as Cedric started to sweat nervously and pull at the collar of his shirt, it was Hermione who spoke in his place, “you’re radiating heat.”

“Of course I am,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to make him sweat.”

“You are succeeding without the extra heat,” Cedric gave a weak chuckle, “if looks could kill.”

“If they could, Kurt would know,” Finn teased his friend.

A smile cracked Kurt’s death glare, “you flatter me Finnocence.”

“I don’t think I tell you often enough how I am left in awe of your magnificence,” Cedric hooked his arm over Kurt’s shoulders and gave him a kiss just below his ear before whispering, “I will introduce you to my father in due course.”

“Kurt,” Finn raised a quizzical brow as he hooked arms with Hermione, keeping pace with Kurt and Cedric, “Where is your overnight bag?”

“You didn’t expect us to carry our own bags all the way here,” Kurt scoffed, “did you?”

“I’m not sure that answers my question,” Finn looked over at Kurt to check his response before shaking his head to the negative, “No.”

“The older Weasleys are appariting to the world cup,” Hermione began to explain, “They’ll be bringing our bags.”

Finn’s face paled, “have I been replaced with a newer, faster model.”

“Neither of them are newer,” Kurt chortled, “they are both old as sand.”

“Didn’t you once say Carole was old as sand?” Hermione raised a curious brow, “How old is sand in your world?”

“I did,” Kurt nodded, “but that isn’t stopping her from having more and more kids.”

“We need to stage an intervention,” Finn nodded in time with Kurt.

“She had another one?” Hermione’s eye shot wide open.

“No,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “She’s just pregnant again.”

“You’re going to be fourteen years older than this one,” Hermione shook her head in disbelief, “that is kind of inconsiderate.”

“But now Harley will have someone to boss around,” Finn pointed out.

“You’re older than Kurt but it seems he bosses you around,” Cedric pointed out with a wag of his eyebrow.

“Kurt treats you like his bitch,” Finn countered, “I don’t think you have a leg to stand on.”

“Oh my gosh,” Kurt’s jaw went slack, he turned to Hermione, “They’re starting to sound like us.”

Hermione giggled, “Kurt isn’t a good case study, he treats everybody terribly.”

“He doesn’t treat Neville terribly,” Finn countered, “but then again, I’m not sure Neville could take it.”

“Don’t underestimate Neville,” Kurt snapped, “with the right kind of motivation he can achieve unknown wonders.”

“I thought that kind of motivation was reserved for me,” Cedric teased, grabbing a handful of Kurt’s buttocks.

“Cedric Diggory,” Kurt raised his voice an octave as he playful swatted the taller boy’s muscled chest, “Your father is a few feet away, I will not do this now.”

“Are you saving your motivation for Neville?” Cedric feigned being wounded.

Kurt gave a high pitched giggle, “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Do I?” Cedric countered as he nuzzled Kurt’s neck.

“What Kurt meant,” a familiar, airy and distant voice explained his intentions from beside him, “is that Neville’s a pretty powerful wizard.”

“Thank you Luna,” Kurt smiled down at her, and raised a brow at the odd man she had appeared with, “the rest of us can’t cast a Patronus.”

“We’re here,” Amos Diggory announced as he turned back to the group, “Look for something out of the ordinary, that’ll be our portkey.” His face contorted in surprise as his gaze came to rest on the tangle of limbs, “who’s this now?”

“Oh, Dad,” Cedric untangled himself from Kurt, “This is Kurt, I’ve told you about Kurt, my Kurt.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up toward his receding hairline and then Kurt felt himself being sized up before a friendly hand and smile were extended in his direction, “Cedric never mentioned you were the Kurt from The Daily Prophet, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“I think it’s because the prophet doesn’t portray me in a very good light,” Kurt joked as he carried himself with grace, “but I’m sure the pleasure is all mine.”

“That’s Rita Skeeter for you,” Mr Diggory gave a booming chuckle that juxtaposed his demure appearance but the snort at the end made the laugh a tad more congruent, “So, Cedric tells me you are the top student in your house.”

“I would be top of my year if it weren’t for Hermione Jean Granger,” Kurt had turned up the charm, he was being humble but without underselling his abilities.

“You’re a funny one, your parents must be so proud,” Mr Diggory nodded.

“Finn is funnier,” Kurt received another one of Mr Diggory’s peculiar laughs.

The man turned back to the open meadow, “Now, let’s find that portkey.”

“And be careful,” Mr Weasley explained, “If you touch it-”

“Found it!” Fred and George chorused as they bent to pick up the rainbow striped umbrella and disappeared.

“You’ll be transported immediately.” Mr Weasley let out a defeated sigh, “Now the rest of us have to use the other one.”

“Here it is Arthur,” Mr Diggory pointed at an old discarded boot, “Now all of us will have to touch it at once.” Their large group circled the boot, it was a tight fit but they managed, “On the count of three; one, two, three.”

Kurt reached out and touched the boot; instead of the pulling sensation that accompanied apparition, there was a spinning sensation. Before he could make heads or tails of it, they were standing in a dense wood much like the forbidden forest. Mr Weasley led their group out of the woods and to a densely populated campsite.

When they came to the campground entrance they were reunited with Fred and George, who by the looks of things had not wasted their independence; each held a betting ticket. Mr Weasley checked them in and Kurt was astounded by the campground managers comment about exotic foreign nationals, it took Kurt a moment to realise that the man was a muggle and unused to wizards of any kind. Kurt also noted that the wizards were acting odd and dressed strangely, “Why are they dressed like that?”

“They’re dressed like muggles,” Mr Weasley gave queer stare, “are they not doing it correctly.”

“They’re trying too hard and it’s making a spectacle,” Hermione pointed out.

“They should have just dressed normally and said it was a themed convention,” Finn added with a shrug.

“That would have been less conspicuous than this,” Harry chuckled at the eccentrically dressed wizards.

Mr Weasley seemed to mull over what they were saying before giving a firm nod, he looked down at their plot cards and pointed left, “we’re heading this way. See you at the match Amos.”

Kurt and Cedric untangled arms, “Later.”

“Later,” Kurt echoed as he and Hermione went off with the Weasleys and the Lovegoods. They navigate through rows upon rows of tents that were elaborately decorated in the green of Ireland, they finally came to their plot where a pair of tents had been pitched and Hipster Weasley lay in the sun. Luna and her father went on to their own campsite with the promise of catching up later.

Kurt kicked the older boy awake, “Hey that is not necessary, no kicking.”

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Kurt gave a patronizing smile before stepping over the boy into his tent.

“You are not good at gratitude,” Hermione scolded with a chuckle.

“How dare you,” Kurt pointed a reprimanding finger at her, “I’m good at everything I do.”

Harry stumbled into Kurt’s tent with Ron in tow, his eyes went wide and Kurt smiled, “I love magic.”

“It’s actually pronounced Kurt,” He teased the boy.

“You complained about living outside when you lived in this?” Harry countered ad he gazed up at the high ceilings of the lounge area of Kurt’s tent.

“You’ve seen my house,” Kurt argued defensively, “Everything feels like outside in comparison to that.”

“These cookies are the best,” Ron smiled broadly as he spoke around a mouthful of them.

“Watch your crumbs,” Kurt scolded, “this is a Persian rug.”

“I’m going to have to ask this question again,” Hermione stood at Kurt’s bedroom door, “Why is everything in here white?”

“As I’ve said before,” Kurt gave a devilish smile, “It is lovely, isn’t it.”

“It has been decided that we’re being divided by age,” Ginny flipped the tent flap open and flung in Ron and Harry’s bags, “Young people in here, old people plus Fred and George next door. Dad wants to keep an-” Ginny stopped dead as she stepped into the tent, “Holy mother of Merlin’s Bearded dildo fucking me sideways.”

“Ginny,” Ron scolded, “we do need that image in our minds.”

“I get the feeling she likes it,” Kurt chuckled.

“I’ve never been so glad to be too young for something,” Ginny smiled as threw herself on the couch.

“It looks a lot like a white version of the Slytherin Dungeon,” Ron exclaimed, “I finally realised why it feels so damn familiar.”

Ginny raised a curious brow, “Do you go to the Slytherin Dungeon often?”

“Not since you stopped talking to Tom Riddle,” Ron gave a crooked smile as Ginny paled.

“Firstly, ten points to Gryffindor,” Kurt clapped his hands, “Secondly, is it me or has summer made you all catty as fuck.” Kurt pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at Ron, “Thirdly, Feet off the couch! It’s white leather.”

“Sorry,” Ron jumped off the couch with his hands held up in surrender.

“One more misstep and you’re sleeping outside,” Kurt smiled and started taking opaque plastic cups out of the cupboard, he produced a large flask from his overnight bag and poured some of the contents into each cup, “Now, let’s go have a looksy around the camp grounds.”

Ginny took her cup with trepidation, “what’s in this?”

Harry, Hermione, Kurt and Ron all looked at her, then at each other but before they could speak another voice answered for them, “Pills and bourbon.”

“Perfect,” Kurt handed a cup to Cedric, Finn and Luna, “you’re here.”

Finn took a sip and gave a broad smile, “Tastes like Oma.”

“You need to stop tasting people,” Kurt teased Finn, pinching his cheeks encouragingly.

“It was a phase,” Finn shrugged, “That part of my life is over.”

“Padma will be disappointed to hear that,” Hermione joked as their group crawled through the rows of tents.

Ron chuckled, “Now who’s going to let Neville feel their boobs?”

“I volunteer,” a merry voice chimed as a pair of arms snaked around Kurt’s waste from behind, Kurt felt himself being turned and kissed deeply by somebody too close to his height to be Cedric.

“What is going on?” Cedric’s sounded only mildly surprised, “what is in this drink?”

Kurt pulled out of the kiss and looked into a pretty face and head of blond hair, “Brittany!”

“Hi Kurt,” she waved at him.

“Hi Brit,” Kurt tried to make sense of the moment but remembered how little sense Brittany made in general, “fancy seeing you here.”

She shrugged and moved on to Kissing Hermione, “Hi Hermione.”

“Oh my God,” Hermione turned to Kurt in disbelief, “She uses more tongue than Finn.”

Kurt’s mind was still transfixed on what Hermione had just said, “Brittany, meet Ron, Harry, Ginny Luna and Cedric.”

Ron Got into line for a kiss but received a handshake instead, “Nice to meet you all, I’m Brittany.” She seemed more interested in what might have been behind them, “Where’s Neville Christopher Admetus Longbottom?”

“He’s seeing the Serengeti with his Uncle Algie,” Luna smiled as she spoke, shaking a disappointed Brittany’s hand, “He’s hoping for an attempt on his life.”

“You kissed Finn?” Kurt turned to Hermione, his jaw slacking in disbelief, “when was this?”

“It was last year before my second date with Anthony,” Hermione explained, “it wasn’t a thing, he was tutoring me.”

“It was a once off thing,” Finn held his hands up in surrender, “no strings attached.”

Ron shook his head in pseudo-disbelief, “How is it that Finn has made out with so many people and I’m-”

“Still sad and alone?” Ginny completed the question for him and he turned as red as his hair.

“Not quite how I would put it,” Ron stared daggers at his sister, “but that’s the gist.”

There was a lingering silence, nobody wanted to earn Ron’s ire by answering the question, it was only Brittany who was bold enough to reply, “Have you tried to make out with someone? Finn doesn’t exactly ask you, he grabs your hand and lets you feel his boobs and then goes in for the kill.”

“My biceps are also better than yours,” Finn added.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Harry placed a reassuring hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “Ginny hasn’t made out with anyone either.”

“And besides,” Kurt gave a devilish grin, “You were in a committed relationship with Scabbers.”

Harry, Hermione and Kurt laughed, and Ron blushed violently whilst everybody else simply watched in confusion, Luna raised a dismissive brow, “that was weird.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt, donned in the green of Ireland, climbed the stairs to the Minister for Magic’s box; he hadn’t been aware that they were attending at the minister’s invitation, Kurt wasn’t sure that he would have attended had he been aware due to the man’s failure to adequately contain and address the matter pertaining to Sirius Black. Kurt was experiencing a feeling that he had never experienced before; disenchantment with an authority figure. Kurt’s respect for the rules and authority were stemmed in his belief that they were in place to protect him and guide him down a prosperous path but the Ministry for Magic had failed to protect him and his friends that day by the lake, it had almost cost them their souls.

“You’d think you would be more excited about watching the Quidditch World Cup at the invitation of the Minister for Magic,” Charlie poked and already irritated Kurt, “it’s kind of a once in a life time experience.”

Kurt quirked an unimpressed brow, “they have one of these every four years.”

Hermione chuckled at Charlie’s confusion, “Kurt isn’t a big quidditch fan nor is he particularly fond of the Minister for Magic.”

“Besides,” Finn cleared his throat before raising his voice an octave, “if one must get excited about world cups then one should be excited by Rugby World Cups.”

“You are getting really good at that,” Cedric wagged a disapproving finger in his friend’s face, “Too good.”

“I can’t get the ‘R’ quite right,” Finn crossed his arms angrily.

“You should really consider asking Hermione for lessons,” Kurt smiled, pontificating his R’s.

“Could someone explain to me why Kurt isn’t fond of the Minister for Magic,” Mr Weasley raised a curious brow.

Ron held out a hand that told his father to stop, “they nearly died, you will die before Kurt is finished if he starts telling that story now.”

“There’s a new reason,” Finn shuddered in fear.

“Kurt is driven by anger like fuel for a car,” Hermione explained.

“Luckily, for Kurt it’s a renewable resource,” Luna joked, “and it is eco-friendly.”

“Burns blue like ice,” Ginny added in an airy toe intended to mock Luna.

“Don’t get Ron started on the blue flames,” Harry interjected with a dismissive shake of his head.

Ron rolled his eyes before turning to Kurt, “What’s the minister done to so readily earn your ire this time?”

“Are you sure that’s how you want to spend the rest of your life?” Kurt pursed his lips and quirked a brow.

“Let the record reflect that Kurt is my new favourite,” Mr Weasley teased.

“Dad,” the Weasley children chorused.

“He ruined Christmas,” Kurt began to explain to his confused friends, “Because everybody loved Karlovy Vary last Christmas, I was coordinating a skiing trip in Switzerland but now I can’t get a magical visa because some witch disappeared in Romania.”

“It was Albania,” Charlie corrected.

“I didn’t think this was possible but my ability to care has hit an all-time low,” Kurt gave the young man a saccharine smile.

Harry furrowed his brow, “Why would you need a magical visa to go on vacation with your muggle family?”

“Shopping,” Kurt, Finn and Hermione chorused.

“Last year we got the loveliest zhivagos,” Hermione wiped away imaginary tears.

Harry furrowed his brow, “What’s a zhivago?”

“A hat,” Cedric and Finn chorused before Kurt could begin to explain.

“They made the mistake of asking,” Hermione chuckled as she spoke.

“And we paid with an hour long lecture on hats,” Cedric complained before flashing an ingratiating smile at Kurt, “not that I minded.”

When they finally reached their seats at the very top of the grandstands Kurt’s disappointment was grown exponentially by the presence of Draco and Mr Malfoy. Beside them sat a vaguely familiar fair haired woman with an unimpressed sneer whom he assumed to be Mrs Malfoy and an elegant elderly woman with hair as fair as snow who looked royally out of place in her too beautiful dress robes. There was a great many empty seats reserved for their large party, at the front of the minister’s box stood the man himself, flanked by the Ministers of the respective countries that would be participating in the finale and a man with sandy blond hair who was long past his prime.

 The view at the top of the grandstand more than made up for the unsavoury company, one could see for miles all around the quidditch stadium and the pitch itself was perfectly positioned for their viewing pleasure. Kurt seated himself between Hermione and Cedric, paying the brood of sulking Malfoy’s and their ‘holier than thou’ attitude little mind as he tangled his limbs with those of his dashing boyfriend and chatted avidly with his best friends. Mr Weasley exchange polite pleasantries with them but received lacklustre responses, Kurt was impressed by how he went unaffected by their rudeness; something Draco didn’t take kindly.

Draco turned back in his seat, “Enjoy Weasley, this is as good as it gets for you.”

“You know Draco,” Hermione had a devious smile plastered across her face, it suited her well, “Your obsession with Ron cannot be healthy.”

“I think maybe somebody might be pulling pigtails,” Kurt let a sinister smile spread across his face as he laughed soft as a silver bell.

“Listen,” Ron chuckle, with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, “I’m out of your league.”

“Why you-” Draco turned a violent shade of red, his anger blatantly evident as he did nothing to try to hide it, “Having your girlfriend fight your battles is a new low, even for you.”

“I’m not sure if you're familiar with the concept of friendship but it’s what happens when people like you and enjoy your company as opposed to merely tolerating your existence,” Hermione triumphantly pursed her lips.

Draco moved to speak but the snow haired woman stopped him dead with an icy gaze, it was the familiar fair haired woman who spoke in turn, “that’s enough Draco.”

“But mum-,” the elderly woman gave him a second cold look and Draco held his tongue.

“Wasting your energy on these… people,” Mr Malfoy sneered, “is beneath you.”

“My father sends his regards,” Kurt gave a condescending smile, “He said he would love to finish the conversation you were having when you last met, he’s not sure whether his point had _hit_ it’s mark.”

“Your friends are so very funny Draco,” the elder woman spoke in a deep breathy voice, her manner was denigrating to the fair haired boy, “much better than those vacant louts you usually keep for company.”

“These are not my friends Grandmother,” Draco mumbled, “we just go to school together.”

“The word you’re looking for is peer,” Kurt pointed out, impressed by the elegant manner that Draco’s grandmother carried herself.

Kurt allowed himself to be pulled out of his seat; leaving Draco with his head bowed, Mr Malfoy silent and the two ladies impressed by his wit. Their party approached the Minister for Magic, each greeting him with a handshake, a smile and an expression of gratitude. When Kurt’s turn came he wore a false smile and shook the minister’s hand, “Minister Fudge, how lovely to see you without a threat on our lives for a change.”

The minister paled slightly, then turned a shade nearer to the green of his bowler hat, before finally settling on a shade of red indicative of his anger, “it’s lovely to see you as well Mr Hummel, how was Peru?”

“Lovely,” Kurt smiled, “their winter is more like our summer which made for a pleasant trip, so sad for it to be the end of an era.”

Kurt gave a small nod before moving on, he shook the Bulgarian Minister for Magic’s hand; the man chuckled at how he had made Fudge sweat, “Good evening, today you are supporting my opponent.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt blushed, smiling bashfully as he was the first to receive something other than a greeting, “Green is kind of my colour of choice.”

“It’s a mighty good colour on you,” the Irish minister chuckled, shaking Kurt’s hand.

“Thank you,” Kurt smiled broadly before moving on to the aged sports player, “Good evening.”

“Evening to you too,” Kurt was taken aback by the smirk that accompanied his salacious tone, “Ludo Bagman, famous beater and ministry official.”

Kurt pulled his hand back, “Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.”

The man seemed to have lost interest as he was now giving Hermione the same treatment, but it was cut short by words that simply ground Kurt’s gears at this point, “Bless my soul, it’s Harry Potter.”

“That never gets old,” Kurt threw himself into a seat and crossed his arms angrily.

“Jealousy is a good colour on you,” Charlie teased him.

“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times, green is my colour,” Kurt tolled his eyes.

“I don’t why you allow yourself to get worked up by this,” Hermione shrugged, “he’s Harry Potter and people can’t control themselves around him.”

“You’re the brightest witch of the age and you were simply objectified because your boobs are new,” Kurt began to explain, “I’m a Master of the Order of the White Lotus and I got much of the same but Harry was born special, people feel like their existence is affirmed by his presence.” Kurt took a deep breath and turned to his friend, “It’s not a dig on you but rather an assessment of a fault with the society.”

“If I could I would give all this attention to you,” Harry shook his head, “God knows you’d deal with it better.”

“I don’t like the idea of better,” Kurt pursed his lips, “Differently rather.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” George dropped into the seat beside Kurt.

“We’re going to beat Bagman in a bet,” Fred explained, his voice low.

“And take all his money,” they chorused.

Kurt smiled, “my boyfriend and my Hermione are sitting in those seats.”

“Don’t ever call me ‘your’ Hermione again,” she chuckled playfully, “it’ll give potential suitors the wrong idea.”

“Wait,” Kurt raised a finely sculpted brow, “I have to be Ron’s Kurt but you can’t be mine.”

“The fact that you let Ron take ownership of you is your problem,” Hermione smiled.

“I think Ronald shouldn’t be claiming ownership of my boyfriend,” Cedric threw his arm over Kurt’s shoulder, “I don’t think I can take the competition.”

“If I recall correctly,” Finn interjected, “You were dating Cho Chang when he made said claim.”

“So maybe you shouldn’t be dating Ron’s Kurt,” Ginny gave a sinister grin.

“I’d forgotten how two dimensional teenagers are,” an uptight and nasal voice spoke from behind them, “especially the ones I call family.”

“Get over yourself Percy,” Charlie shook his head.

“You’re still technically a teenager yourself,” Bill pointed out.

“I’m a working adult,” Percy rebuked his older brother, “a ministry official in some capacities.”

“Ron said you were someone’s secretary,” Kurt pointed out.

“I’m an administrative assistant,” Percy corrected.

“Call it what you must,” Hermione shrugged, “You still get coffee, type memos and answer mail.”

“When you put it that way,” Finn guffawed, “he sounds more like an intern.”

Percy turned his nose up at them, “I’ll have you know that Mr Crouch is very dependent on my assistance, I’m on an errand as we speak.”

“Oh,” Kurt gave a fake gasp, “an errand?”

“Why didn’t you say you were on an errand?” Charlie teased.

“We’re so sorry to keep you,” Bill shook his head in false remorse.

“He probably needs to get an emergency cup of coffee,” Hermione stage whispered in Kurt’s ear.

“Play nice,” Mr Weasley reprimanded lazily, “That cup of coffee might make the world of difference.”

Percy was fuming, “I’ll have you know that I’m actually on my way to check that Mr Crouch’s house elf is still keeping his seat.”

“Oh,” Mr Weasley’s tone was flat, “that does sound important.”

Percy let out a loud squeak before regaining his composure, “And to inform Mr Bagman that we’re ready to begin with the world cup finale.”

“I want you to know that I’m proud of you,” Ginny gave Percy a soft smile.

“Thank you Ginny,” Percy gave a self-satisfied smile.

“I mean, not many people could create a career for themselves doing tasks that can be completed by the simplest of enchantments and owls,” her smile turned sinister.

“I’m just going to go,” Percy stomped off.

“See you at home,” Fred and George waved after him.

Ludo Bagman lifted his wand to his neck and began to speak with his voice amplified around the quidditch pitch, “Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the four hundred and twenty second quidditch world cup final. The teams participating in this match will be twelve time Eastern European Championship winners Bulgaria!”

There was raucous cheering all around the stadium as a group of veela in the red and black of Bulgaria stormed the field, they began to dance and blow kisses into the crowd. Ron was cheering louder than anyone else in the box, he was dressed in red and black to show his support of the eastern European side. Harry had taken off his Irish green top hat and was ripping it apart whilst Finn was attempting to wipe off his green body paint but only succeeding in spreading it. The older Weasleys all had stern looks on their faces as they watched the veela dancing.

“You're not affected by the veela,” Bill observed from behind Kurt.

“I’m strictly same-sex orientated and as such it would make no sense for me to lose my mind over some female veela,” Kurt shook his head; turning to Cedric, who was sitting up straight as a pin with his jaw clenched tightly and a vein popping out of his temple, “my boyfriend, on the other hand, knows better than to react.”

“You’ve trained him well,” Hermione smirked, “if only you could train the rest of these buffoons.”

“I could have sworn I had Finn trained,” Kurt pursed his lips.

“I am trained, better trained than Cedric even,” Finn shrugged, “those are some fine ladies though and this body paint is kind of itchy.”

The veela shot out red sparks to signal the end of their performance; a plume of black smoke began to rise from where they stood, from it emerged the Bulgarian national quidditch team. They wore robes of red and black, flying on broomsticks that resembled Harry’s firebolt but in a different colour motif.

“They’re all flying on firebolts,” Ginny announced, the envy evident in her tone.

“A good quidditch player could kill on any broom,” Hermione assured her, “only a fool would allow themselves to fall into the false sense of security that their equipment can carry them.” Hermione gave pointed look at Draco, “only a fool.”

The veela exited the green, the smoke cleared and the seductive tension that filled the air dissipated, “glad that’s over with.”

“Amen to that,” Ron muttered under his breathe.

Harry gasped, he had a sad expression on his face, “oh no, my hat.”

“You sounded just like me for a moment there,” Kurt smiled, reaching behind him and extending his wand, “Reparo.”

Harry gave a small smile, “you know you’re the best, right?”

“I never get tired of hearing it,” Kurt smiled broadly as he returned his wand to his pocket. There was a loud explosion followed by a merry tune, the air space was filled by glittering dust that hovered in the air and changed shapes as leprechaun whizzed through the air tossing shiny coins into the crowd. Kurt pulled out his wand and made use of the last summer he would be allowed to use his magic freely to deflect a coin that was headed straight for his head, “that’s just dangerous and irresponsible.”

The floating glitter swirled into the shape of a dancing leprechaun and from it burst the Irish national quidditch team, they flew on broomsticks that would have been identical to those of the Bulgarian side other than their colour scheme; the Irish donned green and gold, and their broomsticks were recoloured to match.

“With so many Firebolts,” Charlie chuckled, “you’d think the tournament was sponsored by them instead of Nimbus 2001s.”

“They sponsor the tournament,” Kurt shook his head, “not the individual teams.”

Charlie shook his head, “‘insufferable know-it-all’ was the understatement of the century.”

“A sentiment shared by many know-nothings,” Kurt and Hermione chorused with broad smirks.

“Bless my soul,” Ron clutched his chest, his voice rising to high pitched whisper, “that’s Victor Krum.”

Kurt’s attention was drawn to the man whose face appeared to be projected on the glass panes separating the pitch and the lower sections of the grand stand. Before Kurt could speak, he was pre-empted by Harry, “You don’t know how refreshing it is for me to hear that and for it not to be followed by ‘it is Harry Potter’.” There was a string of laughter, “You guys have to tell me who Viktor Krum is.”

“He’s the number one seeker in the world,” Kurt explained, “this is his world cup debut, he’s only turning seventeen in the first week of September. Youngest person to ever play for a national quidditch team.”

“How do you know that?” Hermione furrowed a brow.

“Magical section of Heathrow, where the international Floo is,” Kurt explained, “their bookshop had a sale on this book that told you all about all of the participating teams in this year’s world cup. It felt like a good idea to brush up on my knowledge.”

Ron shook his head and coughed, “nerd.”

“Never been kissed,” Kurt coughed back.

Mr Weasley chuckled, “this is why he’s my favourite.”

“The rules for this match are listed in the International Quidditch Federation handbook,” Ludo Bagman announced, “Ready, Let’s play ball.”

The bludgers, the quaffle and the golden snitch were released and at great speed the match began, professional quidditch players were a spectacle to behold. The quidditch players flew around the quidditch pitch with a grace and flair that Kurt couldn’t help but almost envy. Kurt looked on as they performed stunning acrobatics on their broomsticks, he had never been taken by quidditch; he believed the sport to be unnecessarily rough and far too dangerous for school aged children to watch, let alone participate in.

The match began with a domination by the Irish side, they scored eighty points in the first fifteen minutes and had the Bulgarian side trailing them, trying to get possession so they could score. The first time the Bulgarian side got clear possession, they scored seven consecutive goalss. The game of Cat and mouse went on for the good part of an hour, with the teams taking turns playing each of the different roles.

When they got closer to the two hour mark it was much clearer who the cat was and who was the mouse, as Bulgaria had fallen behind by two hundred points. The Bulgarian team was much more aggressive and were playing a game that reminded Kurt of his house team, for a moment he wished he was supporting them instead. Bulgaria seemed to be working hard to cover the difference and it was working out for the better.

Viktor Krum decided to put his world renown skills to work when his team was only a hundred and forty points down, he flew straight down with the Irish seeker on his tale, just before he flew into the ground he pulled up but his opponent did not. Before his efforts could be rewarded though, one of his team members committed a foul and earned Ireland a penalty; this enraged the veela, who began to fight the leprechauns. Soon after their successful penalty, Ireland followed it up with a second goal.

Kurt watched in horror as a bludger collided with the Bulgarian seeker’s face and give him a matching pair of black eyes, this didn’t deter the young man as he kept flying in stride. Viktor Krum caught the snitch and ended the match with Ireland ten points ahead.

“Why would he catch the snitch then?” Hermione raised a curious brow, “wouldn’t waiting for his team to lessen the gap have been more beneficial.”

“It’s been a long match, their side is probably tired,” Bill explained, “Going on any longer might have made for a worse loss. This way he ended the match on his own terms.”

~0~

Kurt sat on the top of the backrest of the white couch he had earlier reprimanded Ron for stepping on it, he swayed merrily with his drink in hand. Kurt ran his fingers through Cedric’s hair, they were celebrating, they had planned to celebrate regardless of the match’s outcome but this outcome seemed to have pleased most of them. Kurt stood up and jumped onto the coffee table with less grace then usual, he cleared his throat.

“I thought there were no feet on the furniture,” Ron complained, Kurt flipped him a bird.

“ _There’s a saying, oh_

_Say’s that love is blind._

_Still we’re often told,_

_Seek and yeh shall find._

_So, I’m going to seek a certain lad_

_I’ve had in mind._ ”                                                   

Hermione chuckled, “Kurt, you are drunk.”

“And a really good singer,” Harry gaped at him, “How did we not know this before?”

“Kurt sings like an angel,” Finn bounced in his seat.

“ _Looking everywhere,_

_Haven’t found him yet._

_He’s the big affair,_

_I cannot forget;_

_Only man I ever think of with regret._ ”

“You’re not going to stop, are you?” Ron shook his head.

“Don’t stop,” Brittany clapped along enthusiastically, “it’s so very pretty.”

“I think he’s acting more drunk than the amount we’ve drunk,” Finn gave Kurt a pointed look.

“Come to think of it,” Hermione furrowed her brow, “His inebriation level exceeds out alcohol intake.”

“What the fuck is inebriation?” Ron hiccupped on the last word.

Ginny chuckled, “what you are.”

“ _I’d like to add his initial to my monogram,_

_Tell me, where is the shepherd,_

_For this lost lamb?_ ”

Kurt jumped down and straddled Cedric’s lap, the boy rewarded him a chaste kiss and the girls in the room swooned.

“ _There’s a somebody I’m longing to see,_

_I hope that he turns out to be,_

_Someone who’ll watch over me._

_I’m little lamb who’s lost in the wood,_

_I know I could always be good,_

_To one who’ll watch over me._ ”

“Kurt,” Hermione pulled him down onto the couch’s seat between her and Cedric, “that is so pretty. Are you just really good at everything?”

“It was really enjoyable,” Luna smiled at him, “but one would have been able to deduce Kurt’s musical prowess based on his piano playing and the melodic tone of his voice.”

“Ella Fitzgerald sings it better,” Kurt turned to Cedric and planted an intense, sloppy kiss on the boy’s soft lips. Kurt kissed a trail toward the boy’s ear and in a low sultry whisper began to croon in his boyfriend’s ear, “hi sexy.”

“You are drunk,” Cedric chuckled, planting a chaste kiss on Kurt’s lips.

“I’m feeling a little brave,” Kurt crooned and fiddled with the hem of Cedric’s oxford, “the alcohol is bringing out my inner Gryffindor.”

“You two need to get a room,” Harry sniggered.

“Is that so?” Cedric chuckled, swatting Kurt’s hand from where it was fiddling with his buttons, “And what is your ‘inner Gryffindor’ saying?”

“He says that he’s lonely, kind of make me want some Hufflepuff in there too to keep him company,” Kurt giggled seductively. Cedric slipped out from under Kurt and stood awkwardly beside the couch, “look who’s tempted.”

“I’ll speak to you when you’re sober,” Cedric leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead.

“Fine,” Kurt groaned and rolled his eyes, “I was under the dire misconception that my boyfriend, who will show affection at the drop of a hat, might be interested in feeling me up some but clearly you’re more concerned with keeping my honour intact and having my brother respect you.” Kurt passed Cedric his coat, “you can go, I’ll speak to you when I’m sober.”

Everyone in the room watched Cedric leave, Ron turned to Kurt in awe, “you’re even brilliant at fighting.”

“I…” Kurt took a deep breath, “uh…”

“I’d just like to put it out there that I might just respect Cedric more if he banged you,” Finn shrugged with a lopsided smirk.

“I think that was one first respectable things Cedric has done,” Ron nodded rigorously, “not bad for a guy who’s always touching on one of my best friends.”

“Wow,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “I’m sure you’d feel differently if it was Mandy Brocklehurst feeling up Harry; that would be hot, wouldn’t it Ron?”

“Sounds hot to me,” Brittany nodded, “I don’t even know this many girl.”

“It’s because you all view us as sexual others,” Hermione explained shaking her head, “something to be pursued but unable pursue, as if our loins don’t get warm.”

“As if we don’t look at Finn and want to eat his face,” Luna let out a deep breath, “Kurt sometimes just wants to be a sexy beast.”

“And it would have been so good to watch,” Brittany smiled broadly.

“So, shut up Ron,” Ginny smirked, she let out a hiccup.

“Yes,” Hermione crossed her arms, “Shut up Ron.”

“As sweet as you may think you’re being, you’re not helping,” Kurt got to his feet, “so might you leave the intimate details of my relationship between my love and I. As well-meaning as you are right now; Ron protecting my virtue, ladies for accepting that I might very well be a sexual being, Finn- I’m not sure what you did- but you too. This is the part where you take a page out Harry’s book and say nothing.”

“You called him your love,” Hermione squealed excitedly.

“Ah fuck,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I guess I did.” Kurt rubbed his eyes, “maybe I should have opened with that rather than the unfettered access to my body.” There was loud roaring from outside the tent, “At least somebody is having a good time.”

Hermione hugged him close, “Maybe in another time.”

“Maybe in another country,” Kurt chuckled.

Their laughter was halted by Mr Weasley and Mr Lovegood storming into the tent with Bill, Charlie, Fred and George in tow, “they’re torching the tents, there’s a riot out there and the anti-apparition enchantment means we all need to make a run for the trees and the portkeys.” Mr Weasely turned Bill and Charlie, “take care of the young ones, I have to see what can be done.”

Kurt pulled on his boots and forced a jacket over Hermione’s shoulders, He kissed Finn, “You have to go find Cedric, he’s your ride home but promise me you’ll be careful.”

Kurt grabbed Hermione’s hand, “No matter what, don’t let go of my hand.” They exited his tent and Kurt watched as Ginny was whisked away by Bill, Ron by Charlie, Luna by her father, Fred and George went off in one direction, and Finn pulled Harry along with him, “Let’s go.”

As he was running for his life Kurt caught a glimpse of the cloaked figures that had caused the farce, they wore long black robes that ended in point above their heads and had their faces hidden behind silver masks. Kurt stopped dead in his tracks when he realised that they had the muggle family that managed the camping grounds levitating over their heads.

“Kurt,” Hermione grabbed his hand in both of hers, concern riddled all over her face, “we have to run.”

“Those muggles,” Kurt shook his head, “we have to help them.”

Hermione strained her eyesight for a moment before a horrified expression joined her concern and amalgamated into a decisive expression, “what’s the plan?”

“Bad assery?” Kurt shrugged.

“Sounds like a plan,” Hermione nodded stood planted in her spot as Kurt ran ahead, “but I can’t do magic outside of school.”

Kurt turned back to her with a small smile, “I got you.” They changed direction and pulled out their wands as they ran to the aid of the defenceless muggles. There was a group of five or so wizards, all adults judging from their height and they had the family of four levitated as they spread carnage, “if you wanted to play with fire then you should have just said so, _ignis_.”

“You children have no business here,” a man’s voice growled deeply with a silent flick of his wand.

“ _Protego duo_ ,” Hermione’s wand snapped at lightning speed, “you picked the wrong place to start a riot, _Expilliarmus_.”

“ _Aro_ ,” Kurt purred the words and out of one hand shot blue flames, he flicked his wand, “ _Aculeus_.”

“ _Crucio_ ,” A familiar voice called out from behind them, Kurt was familiar with this one and knew to break the caster’s concentration. Kurt turned to the cloaked figure and directed the blue flames toward the man.

“ _Protego Maximus_ ,” Finn’s voice rang through the clearing, cutting off a curse before it could hit its mark, “have either of you seen Harry?”

“He ran off with you,” Hermione scolded as she moved into a triangular formation, back to back with Finn and Kurt.

“I kind of lost him,” Finn gritted his teeth, “ _Verdimillious_. He was behind me but when I found Cedric he wasn’t behind me anymore, Cedric’s also looking.”

“We need to find Harry,” Kurt announced, “which means we need to get rid of these clowns.”

“Finn,” Hermione’s voice was firm, “Get the muggles out of here and we’ll get rid of these fools.”

Finn nodded, “ _Wingardium leviosa_.” He levitated the muggles who were, at this point, lying unconscious on the ground; he ran off with them floating ahead of him.

“Let’s do this,” Hermione smiled, “ _ignis_.”

The tip of her wand lit up as brightly as Kurt’s right hand, “ _turbine sphaeram_.” A fiery sphere exploded around Kurt and Hermione in a swirl of blue and red flames, before their flames could reach the men they turned into black pillars of smoke and disappeared.

“What is this?” The Minister of Magic appeared from behind the wall of flames as it fell, “are you responsible for this?”

“We had to help those muggles,” Hermione explained.

Kurt shook his head, “you and I both know that Hermione and I didn’t do this.”

“Then who did?” a dark haired man with a weathered face asked, “it’s rather suspicious to find a pair of under aged wizards performing magic outside of school.”

“Has this man seriously got Hitler moustache?” Kurt turned to Hermione with a quizzical brow raised, “I have permission to use magic over the summer and also we were fighting for our lives.” Kurt began to wrack the plethora of facts in his memory, “They wore black robes, silver masks and they dissapparited in a plume of black smoke, they were-”

There was a bright flash and the sky lit up, a skull shaped cloud appeared and a serpent slithered out of its slack jaw, “Oh my god, no.” He and Hermione chorused in utter horror, “the dark mark, they were Death Eaters.”

The adults lost interest in Hermione and Kurt running instead toward the spot where the curse had originated, Kurt and Hermione followed closely. When they reached the clearing they found a groggy Harry and a house elf, Kurt and Hermione shot out ahead of the adults embracing Harry from either side.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione checked him for injuries as she spoke, “Finn told us you two got separated.”

“He’s in so much trouble for that,” Kurt reassured the boy as he kissed him on the forehead.

“Let it be remembered that you have all been discovered at the scene of the crime,” the man with the Hitler moustache spoke, “what do you have to say for yourselves?”

Kurt rose to his full height with fire in his eyes, “I don’t know where you were whilst the carnage of innocence was taking place but I was kicking butt and taking names.”

“You know who did this?” The minister turned to them in bewilderment.

“It’s an idiom,” Hermione explained, “but they were Death Eaters.”

“Don’t be absurd,” the minister chuckled, “there haven’t been Death Eaters for years.”

“Funny, because there hadn’t been a basilisk sighting in over five hundred years,” Kurt began to explain, “but that didn’t stop one from climbing out of the fictitious Chamber of Secrets and terrorising the school, and then it nearly killed us.”

“Or how there had never been a break out from Azkaban,” Hermione went on, “but that didn’t stop us from nearly dying on the Black Lake at the hands dementors pursuing the escapee.”

“Don’t forget about Quirreldemort,” Harry muttered, clutching the lightning shaped gash on his forehead.

“You’ll be wise to watch your tone when speaking to two of the highest ranking ministry officials,” Percy scolded, “Minister Fudge and Mr Crouch deserve nothing less than your utmost respect.”

“I find your obsequent nature nausea inducing,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “bottom line is we’re innocent of all crimes unless curbing criminal activity is now illegal.”

“Then who did it?” Mr Crouch asked again, “Who conjured the dark mark?”

“There was a man over there, near where that house elf is,” Harry pointed over his shoulder dismissively, “Hermione, you can let go of me now.”

“Sorry,” Hermione took a step back, they watched as the group of adults headed over to where the lost looking house elf was standing.

“Harry, Hermione, Kurt,” Bill came up behind them, he turned back and shouted over his shoulder, “Dad, I found them.”

“Thank Merlin’s beard,” Mr Weasley boomed across the ruins of what had been the camp grounds, “I can just imagine explaining this to their parents.”

“We’re all fine Mr Weasley,” Hermione assured the panicking man, “Harry’s got a small cut above his eyebrow, that’s all.”

“Not a cut,” Harry corrected in a whisper, “it’s my scar.”

“Forget your parents,” Mr Weasley wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, “Molly would have killed me, dead. But here you are with the minister.”

“Let the record reflect that we stopped the rampaging Death Eaters,” Kurt shot a sideways glance at the Minister for Magic, “before somebody rewards themselves for our work.”

“Has anyone seen my wand?” Harry furrowed his brow as he frisked himself.

“It’s not here in the periphery,” Kurt searched the ground around him.

“There it is,” Harry pointed to a wand in Mr Diggory’s hand.

“You have really good night vision,” Kurt looked at Harry in awe.

“It’s a given with all the enchantments Hermione keeps putting on my spectacles,” Harry shrugged.

“You called them spectacles instead of glasses,” Kurt clutched his chest, “I feel so proud whenever I’ve managed to teach you something, it’s like I’ve overcome the laws of nature.”

“Sometimes you make me feel so stupid,” Harry chuckled as they walked over to where Mr Diggory was standing with the remainder of the adults, “hi, can I have my wand back.”

“This is the wand that was used to conjure the dark mark,” Mr Crouch turned to the pair, “How did it come to be in the possession of my house elf?”

“House elves are forbidden from breaking the law,” Hermione explain, “Part of their enslavement is that they cannot disobey an order, it is illegal for a house elf to take the wand of a wizard which means this wand was handed to this poor unsuspecting elf.”

“What are you insinuating young lady?” the man tried to use his height to intimidate Hermione but her recent growth spurt made this attempt futile.

“That it was a wizard who stole Harry’s wand, a wizard who conjured the dark mark and a wizard who gave this wand to this defenceless, lost house elf,” Hermione explained.

Kurt smiled, “She’s the brightest witch of the age you know, and you’d do well to heed her warning.”

“You’d do well to hold your tongue in the presence of adults who know better,” Percy warned.

“Thank you,” Kurt gave a cold smile, “when I’m in the company of such adults, I’ll be sure to take that to heart.”

Percy’s face screwed in anger, “Why you insubordinate little-”

“That’s enough,” Mr Weasley’s voice was firm.

“But dad-”

“That’s enough young Mr Weasley,” Mr Crouch silenced him, “you are tasked with finding clothes for Winky so I might set her free.”

“Master,” the house elf pleaded in a feminine voice, “please, what of yo-”

“I forbid you to say anymore,” Mr Couch shook his head, “You have shamed me enough as it is.”


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt leaned out of the compartment window, “I’ll see you at Christmas time, don’t you dare pop a day before I get back.”

“I don’t intend on popping at all,” Carole chuckled, “as for child birth, I’m not sure how long I keep Velma in here once she’s decided she wants out.”

“You know what Kurt means mum,” Finn rolled his eyes as he hung out of the compartment adjacent to the one Kurt was in, “he wants to witness the miracle of child birth.”

“I didn’t get to see Harley crawling out of you and Finn said it looked like demon clawing its way out of hell,” Kurt smiled broadly, “I have to see this one because I’ve banned you from having any more kids.”

“Goodbye Kurt,” His father shook his head in disbelief, he kissed Kurt on the forehead and pushed him into the compartment, “I love you.”

“I love you too daddy,” Kurt waved enthusiastically, “bye.

Hermione shook her head, “your family is so strange, why would you want to see child birth?”

“Educational reasons,” Kurt smirked. Their compartment door slid open and in slid Neville Longbottom, Kurt jumped to his feet and extended his arms inviting, “fire of my loins.”

“How would that make Cedric feel?” Neville asked as he hugged Kurt tightly.

“It means offspring,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I love you just like I raised you.”

Hermione giggled, “Neville, you somehow manage to bring out Kurt’s softer side.”

“None of Kurt’s sides are soft,” Luna giggled, adjusting her extra-large turban, “Kurt works out.”

“Luna Lovegood,” Hermione smiled broadly at their friend, “I think you might be the only person who can match my wit and leave Kurt speechless.”

“I guess I can’t leave myself speechless,” Kurt nodded, then shrugged, “I must agree, that is one of Luna’s talents.”

 “Do tell us Neville,” Luna spoke as she supressed a blush, “How was the Serengeti? Did Toto show up and sing for you?”

“There was no singing and no Toto,” Neville giggled, “but I got to see a ton of exotic magical plants, some animals too.”

“Neville, Luna,” Harry smiled as he, Ginny and Ron entered the compartment, “nice to see you again.”

“What are we?” Hermione squealed loudly.

“Chopped liver?” Kurt snapped angrily.

“We just saw you two the other day,” Ron held his hands up in surrender.

“You also saw Luna the other day,” Kurt frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“But that didn’t stop Harry from greeting her,” Hermione let out an indignant grunt.

“I was about to do the polite thing and greet everyone,” Ginny held her hands up in surrender.

“Thank you Ginevre,” Kurt tilted his head as he smiled warmly at her, “At least you remember your manners.”

Ron chuckled, “You know she’s just saying that, right?”

“Even better,” Hermione mirrored his smile, “It means she still remembers to fear us.”

“Guess who hasn’t changed in the last week,” Harry rolled his eyes at them.

“In case any of you are curious,” Luna turned to them for a moment, “I’m doing well.” She turned back to the window, watching the landscape whisk by her.

“I’m more curious about the turban,” Kurt giggled, “How do you get it that size?”

“My dad use an engorgement charm on it,” Luna shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing, “but I suppose using a large scarf might help.”

“Wait,” Ron’s eyebrows shot up as if he was having an epiphany, “if you two haven’t changed then that means you must still be insufferable know-it-all’s. What’s happening at school this coming year?”

“You mean that thing your mum, Bill and Charlie were on about,” Harry turned to Kurt and Hermione, “What is going on?”

Neville furrowed his brow, “Is this the same thing that my Gran and I had to go buy dress robes for?”

“They’re a pair of know-it-all young wizards,” Luna didn’t bother turning around this time, “not magic eight balls.”

“Besides, where would we have found out about this event?” Hermione quirked a quizzical yet sassy brow, “Do you supposed our muggle parents told us about it?”

“So you don’t know either,” Harry slumped in his seat, his curiosity dead.

“That’s not what Hermione said,” Kurt let a devilish smile spread across his face, “Is that what you said?”

“It’s not what I said,” Hermione shook her head, pursing her lips maniacally.

“What is it?” Harry’s face lit up again and a broad smile across his face.

“Wouldn’t you like to ask Luna and Neville?” Kurt raised a brow, challenging his friend, “They are, after all, worthy of being greeted by the boy who lived.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Harry chuckled, falling to his knees in the space before the pair, “Kurt, if our rumoured relationship in second year means anything to you, you will tell me.”

“Make it worth our while,” Hermione interjected, saving Kurt from bursting out laughing and losing at their little game.

“I’ll tell you all about Ron’s frilly dress robes,” Harry gave a lopsided grin.

“Nice try,” Hermione wagged a finger in front of the dark haired boy’s bottle green eyes, Harry fell back into his seat in disappointment, “Ginny sent us pictures.”

Ron’s jaw went slack, he turned to his sister with a hurt expression and scolded her at pitch only dogs could hear before calming down and letting out defeated sigh, “Ginny, how could you?”

“It was too funny not to share,” Ginny shrugged, “besides, better they see it now and know what to expect. Kurt and Hermione would probably have laughed at you loudly and publicly if I hadn’t prepared them accordingly.”

“Ginny is right you know,” Hermione laid a comforting hand on Ron’s shoulder, Kurt nodded in time with her words, “We laughed for an hour, an hour without any concern for how the Ron in the picture felt.”

“Speaking of things that came in the mail,” Kurt dug in his handbag for a moment before pulling out a cream envelope with scruffy elongated script on the front, “This came for you Harry.”

“For me?” Harry held his hand out cautiously.

Kurt rolled his eyes and forced the letter into his hand, “traditional mail.”

“Fewer stamps on this than the last letter I got via traditional mail,” Harry joked.

“My mother had never used the muggle mailing system before,” Ron crossed his arms indignantly, more about the picture than the joke Harry had made about Mrs Weasley, “I don’t even know what the point of stamps is if they don’t make the letter fly on its own.”

“Did you open it?” Harry shot a curious glance in Kurt’s direction.

“Of course not,” Kurt shook his head in disappointment, “I’m a bitch, not rude.”

“Besides,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “opening another person’s mail is illegal, Kurt would never do it.”

“Not unless he thought he could get away with it,” Ginny added with a devilish grin.

Kurt chuckled, “they get me. I have no need to open your mail, you’ll tell me about it when you’ve read it.”

“How do you know that?” Harry quirked a brow.

“Unless you are suddenly besties with Oma and ‘Pa, that letter is from Sirius,” Kurt gave a small smile, “I can’t be an effective guardian demon without all the details.”

“What if it’s private?” Harry quipped with a curious brow raised.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “ _Then you can whisper it to me_.”

“I said no Parseltongue,” Ron snapped, pointing an angry finger back and forth between Kurt and Harry.

“It’s not like you can stop them,” Hermione chuckled.

“I want to learn how to do that,” Neville smiled broadly, “just to mix things up.”

“My mum used to have a Parseltongue to English dictionary,” Luna shrugged, “you could get one and have Kurt teach you the grammatical structure.”

“That sounds like a lot more effort than I’m willing to put into it,” Neville deflated in his seat, shaking his head to the negative, “I’d rather hear Kurt talk about Peru.”

“I hope it was better than Greenland,” Luna crossed her fingers, “Greenland didn’t make any sense and Kurt sounded so bored when he spoke about it.”

“When one considers that Cuzco was deep in winter, it was rather warm but that didn’t stop the temperature from dropping to freezing at night,” Kurt smiled broadly, knowing he had his friends undivided attention, “This year’s White Lotus training was much more educational and served to contextualize the previous two summers, I suggested they consider opening with this one but they told me the feat was in stumbling in the darkness to your destination.”

“That sounds like a dick move,” Ginny scoffed.

“That’s what I said,” Kurt giggled, “Anyway, they took us to this ancient library in Machu Picchu and in order to gain entrance you had to make a worthy and profound contribution of knowledge, of your own creation, for generations to come.”

“What did you contribute?” Hermione quirked a curious brow.

“Probably his lightning spell,” Ron suggested.

Neville shook his head, “I think I remember Kurt mentioning that spell was a modification, not a creation.”

“Neville’s right,” Kurt gave an impressed smile.

“It was the blue flames,” Harry tried guessing, “wasn’t it?”

“Wouldn’t that also be a modification?” Luna raised a curious brow, “a variation of normal flames.”

“Luna too is correct,” Kurt gave her that same smile.

“Are you actually going to tell us,” Ron furrowed his brow in irritation, “or are we going to play the guessing game forever?”

“You’re the one who started the guessing game,” Kurt pointed out, “I was ready to answer Hermione.”

“Right,” Ron shrank in his seat, “sorry.”

“I wrote a research paper on Basilisks,” Kurt explained, “It explored their physiology and I was able to present some pretty fresh samples to back up my claims, I also delved into their superior quality as wand materials.”

“Wow,” Ron fake snored, “that sounds really boring.”

“I learnt so much in that library,” Kurt’s eyes were opened as wide as they would go without him losing an eyeball, “Like the fact that this wand.” Kurt flashed his pale, perfectly cylindrical wand, “belonged to Harpo the Foul.”

“Harpo the foul…” Hermione knitted her eyebrows as she tried to remember why that sounded so familiar to her, “the first known breeder of a Basilisk? How did you come by that knowledge?”

“Deduction,” Kurt smiled brightly, “I was reading about… wand lore and I came across a portrait of him with it in his possession. He was Greek and Mr Ollivander did mention that his ancestors had acquired the wand in that region, he was a basilisk breeder and the wand’s core is basilisk plume feather, and he lived at about the time that Mr Ollivander’s ancestors migrated to the British Isles.”

“But why would it choose you?” Neville quirked a curious brow.

“Why wouldn’t it choose Kurt?” Luna countered, “Harpo the Foul was a parselmouth, just like Kurt. Kurt is also a pretty powerful wizard.”

“So was Salazar Slytherin and it rejected him,” Kurt pointed out.

“Kurt is pretty knowledgeable,” Harry tried his hand at reasoning through it.

“As was Rowena Ravenclaw and it rejected her as well,” Hermione smiled broadly.

“I’m going to say it and save us all a lot of time,” Ron groaned, “it’s because he is Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, deal with it.”

“I love it when other people say it,” Kurt smiled broadly.

“Don’t gloat,” Ron frowned, “just carry on with the story.”

“I can’t wait to go back but that research paper took me all year,” Kurt pointed a teasing smile at Ron, “I don’t know when I’ll ever have time like I did last year to write another so I can go back.”

“Last year, time was on your side,” Hermione teased, before sighing in defeat, “I’m going to miss that.”

“One of the things I learnt was that wizards used to study magic for twenty years before the invention of wands,” Kurt began to explain, “the ability to perform every day spells flawlessly wandlessly was a skill that took a very long time to perfect, the White Lotus honours that by awarding those who master that feat the title of Grand Master.”

“You’re a Master,” Hermione closed her eyes as if assimilating her thoughts, “how does one qualify for that title.”

“There was a theoretical and practical test,” Kurt flicked an imaginary stray hair out of his face, “the theory test was on the history of the Order of the White Lotus, their ethos and their traditions; the practical was on the wandless manipulation of fire, how you had personally developed the skill and control using the dancing we’d learnt in the second year and how your power had grown with your patience and discipline. Both tests were about how well you could link up the three summers of teaching translate them into your skill set.”

Kurt chuckled, “To think it was Padma and Hermione that told me to look past the actions and see the intentions of the second summer. As I was meditating on it, my thoughts kept wondering back to dancing barefoot on ice and I couldn’t for the life of me think of what the intention behind that might have been.” He fixed his perfect hair, “last winter I went on to the lake the one day and did it again, ice burns. That’s what I’d taken from it and that’s how I figured that lowering the temperature of my flames so much so that they were closer to absolute zero would make them burn more intensely, thus the blue flames were born.”

“But they warmed my face,” Neville furrowed his brow in confusion, “if they’re really cold then why are they warm?”

“It’s complicated and scientifically nonsensical,” Kurt shook his head, “the energy needed to create that extreme cold emits intense heat, it’s kind of the intention.”

“I guess this is the part where we should just not question it,” Luna joked.

“But I have a question,” Harry raised his hand.

Kurt supressed a giggle, “yes Harry.”

“How do you have the flames coating your hand without burning you?” Harry gave him a searching look, “I remembered when you burned Draco’s face the other year.”

“That’s perhaps the easiest question,” Kurt smiled broadly, “When you use wandless magic your body becomes the instrument through which magic is channelled and in much the same way your wand doesn’t catch fire when you cast a fire spell, your skin doesn’t burn.”

Hermione pursed her lips for a moment, “Magic doesn’t act on the object that directs it, much like lightning doesn’t act on a lightning rod.”

Kurt smiled broadly, “Perfectly put.”

“Now,” Hermione preened at her victory, “I expect we’ll be arriving soon, I suggest you all get changed into your school uniform and robes.”

~0~

Kurt sat at the Slytherin long table as the first years were walked into the great hall in two straight lines; he remembered the day he had been in the same position, the day he met Hermione Granger. The memory of his first day at Hogwarts and being outshone by his future best friend was not one he would soon, or more accurately ever, forget. Kurt watched the small first years being called one by one, taking their place atop the stool and having the sorting hat placed on their heads. Kurt noted that none of them missed the chair but that would always be the mark he left on the sorting hat.

“Hummel,” Draco sneered his name, “you left quite the impression on my grandmother.”

“Old people generally love me,” Kurt gave the fair haired boy a condescending smile, “it has something to do with me having manners.”

“Manners wouldn’t have saved you during the riot,” Draco snapped, “they were making quite the show out of your kind, you must have been so afraid.”

“I had no need to be afraid,” Kurt smiled broadly, “I was with the brightest witch of the age and the best in our year.” Kurt let his smile fall as he rose to his feet, “but your father told you all about that.”

Kurt crossed the aisle to the Gryffindor table, before he could sit down his attention was drawn away from his friends by an exclamation of utter exhilaration, “Oh my god. Breathe, breathe, breathe.”

“I think one of your first years is dying,” Kurt whispered to Hermione.

A soaking wet child dressed in a fur coat so large it could only belong to Hagrid stood up and wondered over to where they were sitting, “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“No,” Kurt chuckled, “just one of Harry’s fans.”

“You’re Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” the small boy’s eyes were wide as saucers as he squealed his words of glee, “and you're his best friend, Hermione Granger.”

“This is new,” Hermione raised a curious brow.

“Dennis Creevey,” the boy extended a wet hand toward him, “a pleasure to meet a pair legends like yourselves, my brother has told me all about how you stay saving the day.”

“You’re all wet, you might catch a cold, what to do about that?” Kurt shook his slowly, he took a deep breath and blew warm gale force winds out of his lungs that dried the young boy like a super powered hairdryer. Kurt took the boy’s hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. You know, Dennis is one of my favourite names.”

“That was bloody amazing,” Dennis was vibrating from excitement, he turned over his shoulder to his brother, “did you see that Colin? My life has just been made, I’m ready to die now.”

Kurt chuckled, “that’s the most adorable thing ever.”

“Did you hear that Colin?” the boy squealed gleefully as he bounced back to his seat, “I’m adorable!”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, “and people think you’re evil.”

“Wait,” Kurt’s eyes shot open wide, “People only _think_ I’m evil, I could have sworn I sent out a newsletter confirming it.”

“I think you should consider sending out a newsletter every time you learn something cool,” Ron suggested, “what you just did was amazing.”

“I told you guys I was the nicest person you knew,” Kurt shook his head with a chuckle, “and to think you didn’t believe me.”

“Nobody is going to believe that,” Neville wagged a reproachful finger as he spoke, “but we appreciate you with all your flaws.”

“Oh wow,” Kurt’s tone was flat, “thanks.”

“Might I have your attention for a moment,” Professor Dumbledore moved to his podium and the brass owl opened its wings, “I have a few start of term announcements. Firstly, Quidditch is cancelled for the year.”

“This was supposed to be my year,” Ginny groaned amongst a sea of protests.

“About time they got rid of that barbaric sport,” Kurt smiled, goading his friends on.

“Before it tried to kill Harry for a fourth time,” Hermione mirrored his smile.

“Secondly,” Professor Dumbledore paid the protests no mind, “we will be undergoing slight renovations over the next month and as such the third floor corridor on the left side as well the unused dungeons will be out of bounds.”

“What do you think ‘renovations’ is code for?” Ron hissed around their group, “I think we should go have a look after dinner.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “If you wait for him to finish you will find out it is not a code for anything.”

“Likely story,” Ron scoffed.

“These renovations lead me to the third announcement of the night,” Professor Dumbledore spoke with a small smile on his  weathered face, “this year our school will have the great honour of hosting the Triwizard Tournament. This will be the first time that such a tournament is held in over a century, the tournament is a great test of one’s knowledge, strength and wills. Eternal glory awaits the wizard who shall win this tournament.”  The hall was filled with murmurs, “For the duration of the Tournament we will play host to Durmstrang Institute from Norway and Beauxbatons Academy from France, the renovations are preparations of chambers for our guests.”

“Is this the big secret event?” Harry whispered in Kurt’s ear.

“Yes,” Kurt smiled broadly.

“How did you know?” Ron hissed at him.

“Santana mentioned it in a letter,” Hermione smiled broadly.

Neville’s face lit up, “Santana’s coming?”

Kurt held a finger over his lips as the headmaster continued to speak, “The final announcement, this year we welcome Alastor Moody to the staff as our new Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“Alastor Moody?” Harry furrowed his brow, “the Auror your father was talking about?”

“Damned if I know,” Ron shrugged.

Hermione shrugged as well, “it would make sense to have a dark wizard catcher teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

There was a loud clap of thunder above and screams came from around the room. A man, Kurt had previously believed to be a wooden statue in the corner due to a skin condition, stepped forward and pointed his wand through the transparent ceiling at the clouds, clearing them. Professor McGonagall stood at the staff table, her anger evident in her facial expression, “that was completely uncalled for, have you never heard thunder before?  Are you unfamiliar with the flash of lightning?”

“Thank you Professors McGonagall and Moody,” Professor Dumbledore smiled at them both, Professor McGonagall had taken her seat and Professor Moody was taking in some liquid courage from a hip flask, “The rest of you best be off to bed so tomorrow you might be spooked by some sunlight.”

~0~

“You’re going to love Professor Moody’s lesson,” Cedric leaned down and nibbled at Kurt’s ear lobe for a moment, “I can guarantee it.”

“I won’t know if you don’t let me go,” Kurt giggled, trying to keep his mind focused on the class he’d had to wait all weekend and all of Monday for, “I would love to stay here with you, we could spend your entire free period… tempting each other but Hermione would murder me if I missed class.” Kurt let out a high pitched breath as Cedric teased at the nape of Kurt’s neck with his teeth, “don’t make me have to immobilize you.”

Cedric chuckled and pulled Kurt into a deep kiss, “Go, I’ll see you later.”

“I love you,” Kurt planted one last chaste Kiss on Cedric’s cheek as they straightened each other’s clothes, “and I’ll see you later.”

“I don’t think anything makes me happier than being loved by you,” Cedric smiled broadly leaning in for a last kiss.

Kurt stopped him in his tracks, “we’re going to have to be happy together some other time.” Kurt gestured to the classroom door over his shoulder, “I have to go be happy with someone else.”

“Tell Hermione I said hi,” Cedric held onto his hand as he walked away until they were too far to touch but even then he kept his hand extended in Kurt’s direction.

“Mr Hummel,” Professor Moody spoke as he faced the chalk board, writing his name, “you’re late, I’ll see you after class.”

“I’m actually on time but sure,” Kurt shrugged, slipping into the seat beside Hermione.

“What’s that on your neck?” Hermione giggled girlishly.

“I slipped and fell in the bathtub,” Kurt brought his hand up to cover the purple mark on his neck.

“You have one on both sides,” Hermione teased.

Kurt cursed Cedric for marking him and wished he’d brought a scarf, “I was drunk and fell twice?”

“If memory serve, you prefer to shower,” Hermione whispered in his ear.

“Fine,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “they are hickeys, I have a boyfriend and we’re really intimate right now; I’m not going to apologise for it.”

“Don’t,” Hermione smiled broadly, “I think it’s cute.”

“I am Professor Moody, I will be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts because Dumbledore asked me to do it,” The man stood imposingly at the front of the classroom, “end of question. Any questions?”

Ron raised his hand and Harry pulled it down, “he’s being rhetorical.”

“Right,” Ron nodded, “rhetorical.”

“Who can tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are?” Kurt was flawed by how perky the man sounded as he spoke of the darkest magic still known to man. Kurt and Hermione raised their hands, “Yes, Mr Hummel.”

“Three.”

“And why are they unforgivable?” Hermione’s hand stayed up, “Yes, Miss…”

“Granger, sir,” she spoke calmly, “they are so named because the use of any of them on a human is an automatic life sentence in Azkaban.”

“They were first classified as such in seventeen-seventeen due to their status as the most powerful and sinister spells in practice at the time,” Kurt added.

“Well done, I’ve been told you were both quite precocious,” Professor Moody turned and wrote on the board, “The ministry says I shouldn’t show you what these curses do till NEWT level but I think differently, I think you need to know what to expect.” He turned around and gazed around the class with a twitch of his tongue, “who can name the three curses? Mr Weasley, stand, let’s hear it.”

Ron got to his feet slowly, “I do know of one, my dad told me about the imperius curse.”

“Oh, yes,” Professor Moody nodded rigorously, “that one gave the ministry hell some time back.” Professor Moody walked over to a jar on his desk and from it pulled out a large spider, “ _Imperio_.” There was a faint spray of rainbow coloured mist in the spider’s direction and Professor Moody then began to wave his wand around; the spider responded according, moving in time with what Kurt supposed to be the man’s thought. The spider bounced around the classroom spreading panic and causing havoc before the man summoned it back to him, “The mind controlling spell. Countless wizards have claimed that they only did You-Know-Who’s bidding under the influence of the imperius curse, the question is how do we separate the liars from those telling the truth?”

“Was this before the invention of veritus serum?” Kurt spoke sarcastically and rolled his eyes.

“The next curse,” Professor Moody looked around the classroom, “who knows it?” Neither Kurt nor Hermione raised their hands, “Mr Longbottom, stand up.”

Kurt and Hermione looked over at Neville in disbelief, the boy spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, “The… The cruciatus curse.”

“Oh yes,” Professor Moody replied as if being reminded of an old song he once loved, “that one brings back a memory or two.” He pointed his wand at the spider, “ _Crucio_.” There was a faint red glow and the spider buckled under the pain, letting out a high pitched cry- Kurt didn’t even know ordinary spiders made sounds.

“Stop it,” Hermione cried out; Kurt was pulled out of his transfixed trance and his gaze followed Hermione’s to Neville, who was clearly bothered by the man’s actions, “Stop.”

Professor Moody noticed the result of his actions and desisted, he stepped up to Kurt and Hermione’s desk and placed the spider in front of Hermione, “Would you like to give me the last curse Ms Granger?” Hermione shook her head angrily, “ _Avada Kedavra_.” The spider fell dead as if sleeping, “the killing curse, unstoppable and nobody has survived to tell the tale after being on the receiving end of this curse. No one except for one, and he’s sitting in this room.”

“Didn’t even take half the lesson for this to become about Harry Potter,” Draco sneered.

“We’ll be ending it there,” Professor Moody sent a pointed accusing look in Draco’s direction, “All of you, get out.” Kurt began to pack his books, “not you Mr Hummel, you sit there.”

Kurt watched his friends get up and leave in irritation but none the less sat quietly, waiting for Professor Moody to speak to him. Kurt watched the man drag Neville into his office, they disappeared for five minutes and Kurt wondered what they were talking about; he briefly considered listening in but thought better of it. When they emerged from the adjacent office Neville was smiling and had a large book in his hands, he waved merrily at Kurt on his way out of the classroom.

“Now, Mr Hummel,” the man leaned on the large oak desk before Kurt’s much smaller student desk, “Professor Dumbledore has given me the freedom to interview potentially problematic students.”

“You’re wasting your time with me,” Kurt smiled broadly, “I’m a model student; I’m almost top of my year and I’ve saved this school from certain destruction.”

“So, I’ve been told,” the man took a drink out of his flask, “but given your background, I hope you don’t mind entertaining me.”

“And what background might that be?” Kurt chuckled, “my dangerous Islington upbringing?”

“You feign ignorance,” the man raised a brow, it looked unnatural on his stiff skin, “I understand why? It’s terrible what they did.”

“What who did?” Kurt was caught unawares by the statement, “I’m not known for my ignorance, some might say I know everything.”

“Yet you don’t know what your own parents did?” The man gave him an accusatory glare, he probably expected Kurt to shrink under the scrutiny but Kurt sat up proudly.

Kurt’s voice was laced in anger and condescent as he shot back his reply, “The only thing I know about my parents is that they abandoned me.”

“Then allow me to educate you,” the man leaned forward and Kurt could smell garlic on his breath, “I have reason to question you because you are the son of imprisoned Death Eaters Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange.”


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt nodded his head slowly, “I’m almost certain that questioning me on the grounds of parents I’ve never met is a stupid idea.” Kurt chuckled, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth as he did- trying to maintain a semblance of respect for his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, “that aside, you’re going to have to forgive me for not believing you but I’ve been down this road before, twice before and it gets old pretty quickly.”

“So you were feigning ignorance,” Professor Moody’s tone was more accusatory than curious.

“Not at all,” Kurt pulled himself toward himself and managed to stop laughing, “This theory is new, I’ve never even heard of these people. I think that is a very refreshing departure from only being accused of being the offspring of the more prominent masters of evil. But why should I believe you?”

Professor Moody raised a curious brow, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you’re not the first person to take a stab at my paternity but you’re the first to be bold enough to bring your suspicions to me,” Kurt pursed his lips and raised a curious brow, “but what evidence do you have to substantiate your claim?”

“I learned it from the horse’s mouth herself,” Professor Moody chortled, “I’m the one that caught the LeStrange lot and I was given the pleasure of an interrogation.”

“Oh, yes,” Kurt nodded patronizingly, “And the horse just spilled its guts.”

“Are you not familiar with the boastful nature of Madame LeStrange?”

“Having never been introduced,” Kurt gave the man a sly grin, “unfortunately not.”

“So, you’ve never heard of the atrocities committed by Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange?” the former Auror’s tone was riddled with disbelief.

“I’m fourteen,” Kurt pointed out, “if they were convicted for their titles and actions as Death Eaters then it happened when I was a toddler at best, they didn’t report it on the BBC so it’s not the kind of thing I would just know.”

“What’s a BBC?”

“British Broadcasting Corporation,” Kurt barely held back the condescending eye roll he would have given if the same question had come from one of his friends, “It’s a television station.”

“What if I said I don’t believe you?”

Kurt gave a small smile, he once more had to curb his condescending nature, “I’m not sure I’d care. You’re not employed to believe me, you’re employed to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Professor Moody was seething, “You insolent little-”

“I’m not done,” Kurt raised a silencing finger, “I’m going to say this once and I hope it is received in the manner in which it is intended, I don’t care for the manner in which you have conducted yourself.” Kurt took a deep steadying breath, “How dare you accuse me of being a problematic student! Who the hell do you think you are coming into my school and pretending to know more about me than I do? What was the point of this exercise? What have you achieved?”

“You listen to me-”

“No,” Kurt’s finger shot up to silence the man once more, “you listen to me, I’m going to pay you three courtesies today; I’m going to answer whatever relevant questions you may have for me, I’m not going to bring this meeting with any of your superiors, and during our next lesson I will pretend that I haven’t lost all respect for you.” Kurt pulled out a cigarette and lit it as the man watched on in awe, “Am I going to have to ask the questions too?”

Professor Moody’s curiosity was piqued, “be my guest.”

Kurt took a long drag of his cigarette and rolled his eyes, “Do I have any experience with Dark Magic? Yes, I read. Was I familiar with the unforgivable curses before today’s lesson? Yes, I read. Do I harbour any resentment or prejudice against muggleborn students or any other demographic? No, I consider myself one of them.” This answer seemed to throw Professor Moody for a loop, “my brother and best friend are muggleborns, and I was raised by muggles so it seems only fitting I would identify as such.” Kurt pursed his lips in appreciation of the drama he was bringing to the moment, “Given the upcoming Tri-Wizard tournament, you might ask if I have any intentions of entering.”

Kurt paused, taking a leisurely drag from the cigarette, playing on the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor’s impatience, “And do you?”

“I have no need for the eternal glory that it offers,” Kurt chuckled mockingly, “I’m one of the youngest Masters of the Order of the White Lotus of all time, the youngest living one at least. No, I have no interest in being selected for a magical pissing contest.”

“You have no interest? You speak as if you would automatically be chosen if you entered?” Professor Moody quirked a brow, “is there a flaw in the system we should know about?”

“It picks the person who is most worthy from each school, nobody at Hogwarts is more worthy than I am,” Kurt smiled, “Hermione would be second and Cedric third simply because I chose him for that spot, in order for somebody to get picked they’d have to create league division if we were to enter because I’d obviously get picked; it would be like I was the only person from this school who entered.”

“Unfortunately for you and your little fantasy,” Professor Moody gave a lopsided grin and a twitch of his tongue, “the tournament is going to be closed to under aged wizards, in a case like that would you know how to enter?”

“Wait,” Kurt furrowed his brow, “They’re hosting an event at a school that about eighty percent of the student body will be too young to participate in? That doesn’t sound particularly bright, how do they intend to keep people out when you could just ask an older friend to put your name into the Goblet of Fire for you.”

“Seems you’ve given this tournament a fair bit of thought,” Professor Moody gave him a suspicious glare.

“I give everything a considerable amount of thought,” Kurt pulled out his compact and admired himself, “figuring this all out was rather simple once I’d read up on the tournament. I have no interest in entering nor do I have any interest in helping anyone enter because the only idiots who would be brave enough to ask me for help, don’t have what it takes to survive.”

“More potential problem students?”

“Just idiots who would die in the first task,” Kurt shrugged, “not for lack of skill but rather lack of preparation, competent wizards have died in this tournament.”

“I see,” Professor Moody nodded, “And who might these people be?”

“Wouldn’t you love to know?” Kurt gave a coy smile and got to his feet, “I have an appointment with my boyfriend that I should be getting to, let’s not do this ever again.”

“And what of your parents?” Professor Moody pushed the boundary as Kurt was headed toward the door, “I was told it was quite the source of curiosity for you.”

Kurt’s face turned to stone, “They clearly had no interest in me, as such I no longer have any interest in them.”

~0~

“Kurt?” Hermione’s voice echoed around the deserted hall of records, the dust on the shelves quaked with each syllable she spoke, “Kurt are you in here?”

“Near the back,” Kurt’s voice didn’t carry as much as Hermione’s did but the desired effect was achieved.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione came to kneel beside him, carefully navigating the spread of open tomes on the floor around Kurt.

“Research,” Kurt removed his spectacles and looked up at his best friend with a small smile, “I had to look up some history.”

“Kurt, it’s like the second week back,” Hermione furrowed her brow in concern, “You can’t possible have started playing Nancy Drew, and I don’t think it could possibly have escalated to the point of you needing to cut Astronomy.”

“I didn’t cut, I was excused,” Kurt got to his feet and pulled Hermione up straight with him, “I was excused by Professor Moody when he excused Neville.”

“For what reason,” Hermione scolded curiously.

“Because he emotionally distressed me as well,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I needed some time.”

“Why?” Hermione glared curiously at him, “what did you so desperately need to research? What would make you feign emotional distress?”

“I’m not emotionally distressed so I can do some research,” Kurt took a deep breath, “I’m doing research because I’m emotionally distressed, Professor Moody claims to know who my biological parents are and I didn’t like what he had to say.”

“How would Professor Moody even know who you are, let alone who your parents are?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “You were given up as a new born; even if he saw you as a baby, how would he recognise you now?”

“He does have the magical eye thing going for him,” Kurt shrugged, “if it can see out the back of his head than why not have some detec- Actually no, I can’t justify it.” Kurt took a deep steadying breath, “I know Professor Dumbledore trusts him in spite of his eccentricities so I thought maybe if I had a gander at the permanent records of my alleged parents then I would have a better idea.”

“And?”

“Shit is lining up,” Kurt picked up one of the open tomes, “Who does this sound like, ‘she _is a bright and talented young student who has displayed great skill in Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions. She is general pleasant to be around when one can overlook her arrogance…_ ’ It goes on but that sounds just like me.” Kurt cackled manically as he tried to preserve his sanity, “Professor Flitwick mentioned that the last student to show as much promise as I did considered herself a god amongst men, your teachers are reluctant to mention you by name when you’re a convicted death eater.”

“Convicted death eater?” Hermione’s eyes shot wide open, “who are these people.”

“Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange,” Kurt chuckled, “which explains why Professor Binns calls me Ruddy, I must remind him so much of Rudolphus LeStrange; ‘ _An aloof yet short tempered young man’_.”

“This could all be coincidence,” Hermione shook her head in disbelief, “last year you looked just like a member of House Black and now this stuff is just convenient.”

“Oh, you mean the House Black that Bellatrix is a direct descendant of?” Kurt held back a laugh, he feared he was starting to sound crazy, “Yes, she was Bellatrix Black before she was married. Sister to Narcissa and Andromeda Black; there’s a whole line of House Black students dating back centuries that were all in Slytherin, aside from Sirius, just like me.”

“Okay,” Hermione cracked her neck in preparation for hard work, “let’s see what the facts are before we make any hasty decisions.”

“I started out by finding something with a picture,” Kurt held up the preserved newspaper clipping, “it’s their wedding announcement.”

“That is one attractive couple,” Hermione looked from the picture to Kurt, “And you did mention that your hair curls wildly when left untamed, I’ll admit resemblance into evidence.”

“Bellatrix Black was an over achiever, she got ten outstanding passes in her OWLs and seven outstanding passes in her NEWTs,” Kurt presented Hermione with a tome that had Bellatrix’s school records, “She was also a prefect, Head Girl and captain of the Slytherin quidditch team.” Kurt picked up another tome, “Rudolphus was less impressive as a student but still managed to shine in all his practical subjects, and as a beater on the Slytherin quidditch team.”

Hermione gasped loudly, “Wait, let’s go back to the article.” She held it out to Kurt, “do you recognise those people in the background?”

“There’s a caption,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “it’s her sister Narcissa and her mother Druella.”

“But it looks like Draco’s mother and grandmother,” Hermione, chuckled loudly, “I recognise them from the world cup.” Hermione was vibrating as she guffawed loudly, “if this is true then you're related to Draco Malfoy, you’re like cousins or something.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt rubbed his temples in disbelief, “that’s worse than being the child of convicted death eaters.” Sudden realisation dawned on Kurt, “That would explain why Draco’s mother looked like she’d seen a ghost the first time she saw me at _Flourish and Blotts_ , she recognised me. It makes sense if she recognises me, if your sister has a boy child on a certain date and you see a boy who’s the same age that child would be and who looks similar to your sister, something inside you will join the dots.”

“Especially when one considers that there aren’t that many wizards born at height of the wizarding war running around,” Hermione nodded slow realisation, “our year has the lowest enrolment in centuries.”

“Speaking of class enrolment,” Kurt held up a tome that was currently filling itself in, “When my name went into the Hogwarts registry, it didn’t mark me as needing integrational assistance.”

“What the hell is integrational assistance?” Hermione rolled her eyes, probably at her friend’s use of jargon he didn’t understand, “do you even know what that is?”

“No, but it’s only marked next to muggle born students and Harry Potter, who has his put in by hand,” Kurt pointed out, “I think it’s how we had teachers show us the ropes when we went shopping and such.”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded as she spoke “but you had Professor McGonagall.”

“I also live with Finn who is marked for integrational assistance,” Kurt pointed out, “Which explains why Professor McGonagall would know that my parents were wizards without knowing who they were.”

“This is a lot to take in and it’s not even happening to me,” Hermione took a deep steadying breath, “the more we look into this the more it starts to sound like the truth.”

“Fuck,” Kurt groaned, “If this is true…” Kurt’s sides began to hurt as he tried to pull himself out of existence, “then I need to talk to Neville.”

“You need to what?” Hermione raised a curious brow.

“The most recent piece of information pertaining to Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange was an article by Rita Skeeter,” Kurt handed it to Hermione, “it’s about their trial and subsequent arrest for the torture and permanent incapacitation of-”

“Neville’s parents,” Hermione completed the sentence for him, “that’s why he was so bothered by the cruciatus curse.”

“He has to hear about this from me,” Kurt nodded, “another might skew the facts and I really don’t need the extra drama caused by some people I’ve never even met.”

“Yeah,” Hermione smiled broadly and hugged him close, “this doesn’t change anything, you’re the same person and Neville knows that. You don’t have anything to do with these people other than possibly sharing some DNA with them; you’re a good man Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and an even better friend, Neville won’t need convincing of that.”  She held him at arm’s length but her smile didn’t falter, “Harry and Ron on the other hand might need reminding that you’re the best.”

~0~

Kurt grabbed Neville as the boy was leaving the Gryffindor Common room for breakfast, “Honey, we need to talk.”

“Good morning Kurt,” Neville smiled as Kurt led him up the grand staircase, “Where are we going?”

“Astronomy tower,” Kurt gave a weak smile, “it’s a beautiful morning and the grounds will look spectacular from that elevation. The privacy is a bonus.”

“I can’t fight that logic,” Neville chuckled as the ascended the tower stairs, “Or is it that I can’t fight your logic?”

“I’m sure it’s the latter,” Kurt couldn’t help laughing as well, Neville was surprisingly contagious in that aspect. There was a gentle autumn breeze blowing through the top of the astronomy tower and the panoramic view was just as he’d expected it to be, awe inspiring.

Neville ran up to the railing and leaned over the edge, “it’s a beautiful place to begin the day.”

“I concur,” Kurt nodded sternly.

“You wanted to talk to me about something,” Neville turned to him and Kurt fidgeted under his gaze.

“It’s about yesterday’s Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson,” Kurt’s tone was neutral, he didn’t want to taint the confession with guilt or overfamiliarity, “I know why you were so bothered by the cruciatus curse, I know about your parents.”

Neville swallowed a lump, “How did you-”

“I know because I recently became aware of the fact that the people who did it might be my parents,” Kurt took a deep breath as Neville became shrouded in confusion, “I’m the son of Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange, the Nephew of Rebastan LeStrange, and- I don’t think I’m related to the fourth guy but you get the gist.” Neville stood unmoving in stunned silence, “I found out about the possibility yesterday and by the time it became a near certainty it was too late for me to find you and explain.”

Neville took a deep breath, “don’t speak.” Kurt’s heart dropped, “I don’t know what you think this means but for the first time I can confidently say that you’re wrong.” Neville pulled Kurt into a tight hug, “I love you like I raised you, I don’t think that’ll soon change.”

“Oh, Neville,” Kurt sniffed loudly, “That whole thing we did of each loving other like we raised them is just awkward now, you grew up without your parents because of my potential biological parents.”

“If I can hate you for that then you should hate me too,” Neville argued as wiped away Kurt’s tears, “you possibly grew up without your biological parents because they were in Azkaban for reasons relating to my parents.”

Kurt chuckled, “that’s silly.”

“You’re silly,” Neville countered, “you taught me occlumency and essentially how to think, I’m like in your debt forever.”

“About that…” Kurt took a step back, “I didn’t teach you occlumency, I just called it that so it sounded more magical. Occlumency is a real thing it just isn’t what I said it was, I taught you Thought Journey which is a muggle memory exercise.”

“Wait,” Neville shook his head in disbelief, “then what is occlumency?”

“Occlumency is the exercise of magically protecting your mind from penetration,” Kurt explained with a shrug.

“Then what about all the research you did?” Neville gawked at him.

“Pretence,” Kurt smiled, “It was Hermione’s idea that if we planted the idea in everyone’s head that we were doing something magical then you’d believe it more.”

“Deceptive but brilliantly so,” Neville nodded his head in time with his words, “I’m impressed, disappointed that I’m not magically smart but impressed none the less.”

~0~

“Harry, wake up,” Kurt whispered as he shook Harry awake, “We need to talk.”

“Kurt?” Harry sat up straight as a pin, “What are you doing here?”

“Which part of ‘we need to talk’ is difficult for you to understand?” Kurt quirked an expectant brow, “Boys, can we have the room.”

“Kurt? Kurt Hummel?” Dean wiped the sleep from his eyes, “how did he get in here?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, “Don’t question it.”

“Well, why are you here so bloody early?” Seamus’s irritation seemed to be exacerbated on Kurt’s ears by the boy’s strong Irish accent, “Can I bloody question that?”

“It won’t do you any good,” a sleepily trudging Ron yawned loudly, “just do it so we can sleep after he’s gone.”

Neville assisted Ron in dragging an angry Seamus out of the room, Kurt smiled in satisfaction, “this dorm is so quaint.”

“Kurt, I’m sure you’re not here at five-thirty to talk about interior design,” Harry gave an exhausted yawn, “how can I help you?”

“You can tell me what the hell this is,” Kurt threw a piece of paper on Harry’s bed.

“Looks like a piece of parchment to me,” Harry shrugged, Kurt picked up the copy of _The Standard Book of Spells: Chapter 4_ that sat discarded on the end table and beat his friend over the back of the head with it, “Ouch, I’m sorry.”

“And it’s embossed thirty-two pound bond linen paper,” Kurt explained as Harry read the letter, “From Oma’s personal stationary.”

“This looks like very detailed instructions on how to use a cond-” Harry’s eyes grew wide and he dropped the letter as if it had burned him, “oh God, is that letter from your grandmother?”

“Wrong page,” Kurt gave a polite smile as he exchanged the page for another, “but I want you to keep in mind that my grandmother is the best.”

Harry was more careful when reading this page, “Hope you have fun… something permanently scarring… oh yes, I suppose this is the part that’s intended for me.” Harry cleared his throat, “ _John Doe informs me of his desire to leave the farm and return to England to tend to Harry’s needs, I thought I might bring it up._ ”

Kurt leaned in close and put on his scariest expression, “Now, unless you’ve decided to start fucking your Godfather; you don’t have a need that I can’t satisfy.” Kurt’s voice was now a low intimidating rumble, “Before our little share-fest I want you to know that you’re going to make this go away or I’ll have ‘Pa chain Sirius Black to a milking machine and break both his legs so he can’t go anywhere. Now tell me, what are your needs?”

“You’re really frightening me,” Harry whispered, “I don’t know if it’s the voice, the fact that you can enter my sleeping quarters at will, or the grotesque thoughts in your head. The worst part is that I’m a little turned on by it.”

“As would be expected,” Kurt took his exposition in stride, “now, tell me.”

“My scar’s been hurting,” Harry whispered, “I mentioned it in a letter.”

“And you still believe that it hurts when there’s danger looming on the horizon,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “there’s something else.”

Harry scrunched up his nose, “I might have also had a dream…”

“Okay, you can save that for Oprah,” Kurt got to his feet and took a step back from the boy.

“Not that kind of dream,” Harry chuckled, “it was a dream about… Voldemort, Wormtail and some other man.”

“And you're sure it wasn’t a sexy dream?” Kurt eyed him suspiciously.

“Unlike with Ron,” Harry chuckled, “Wormtail isn’t invited to my sexy dreams.”

“And Voldemort is?” Kurt couldn’t remove the concern from his voice.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Kurt teased, “Do I really?”

“Anyway,” Harry rolled his eyes, “I thought the whole thing meant bad business.”

“And you didn’t tell the smartest or the most powerful people you know?” Kurt raised a condescending brow, “you decided that a criminal on the run was your best line of defence?”

“In retrospect-” Harry trailed off, “you know you have a real talent for making people feel stupid.”

“I do know,” Kurt smiled sweetly, “ _Venir_.” A bottle of disinfectant and some cotton wool appeared in Kurt’s hands, “I have a solution.”

“What’s that for?” Harry asked as Kurt moistened the cotton wool with the clean smelling liquid.

“I think you might have an infection in that open wound of yours,” Kurt moved closer, “summer is a very dirty time and it would explain the night sweats.”

“How do you know about the night sweats?” Harry furrowed his brow, “you haven’t been watching me sleep, have you?”

“No, I haven’t been watching you sleep,” Kurt rolled his eyes and scoffed, “look at your sheets.”

“Oh,” Harry nodded his understanding, “right.”

“Yes, right,” Kurt nodded in sync, “this might sting.” Kurt swiped the area around the wound and then gently dabbed the cut, he felt a sharp pain on his index finger and recoiled with a loud gasp, “I think your scar just bit me!”

“What happened to it being a gash?” Harry shrugged with a chuckle.

“Whatever the fuck it is, it just bit me,” Kurt showed the boy his bleeding finger, “wounds generally don’t bite people, no matter how infected they are.”

“How many of those non biting wounds were the result of the darkest magic ever?” Harry quirked a brow.

Kurt scoffed, “hardly the darkest but I get your point.”

“What’s darker than murder?” Harry leaned away cautiously.

“There are darker ways of doing it,” Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, “I have to go to the library.”

“Be sure to change out of your exercise clothes first,” Harry gave Kurt a lopsided grin, “I don’t think Cedric will be able take the competition once people see you like that.”

Kurt looked down at his singlet and rolled his eyes, “then he’d die if he found out that on Wednesdays I exercise in a leotard.”

~0~

Kurt sat reading at the Slytherin table during the opening feast of the Triwizard Tournament, he had spent every moment since his meeting with Harry combing over every Dark Arts book they had in the library and that he owned for wounds that didn’t heal but it was to no avail at this point. There was plenty of mention of curses that left unhealable wounds but those circumstances were unique to that particular curse and there was nothing on the killing curse other than that it left the dead in a perfect state of health other than their unfortunate demise. Kurt viewed modern dark arts as double edged sword, he was glad that people no longer used the more grotesque stuff he had read about in the Machu Picchu library but he also felt like the dark arts were no longer an art form; Kurt had read about a curse that made it’s victim haemorrhage to death and felt that was miles more artistic than the killing curse.

The great hall had been arranged in six long tables as opposed to four, Kurt knew that Hogwarts had a greater enrolment than both schools but he hadn’t imagined it was greater than both schools combined and not to this extent. Above each table hung the individual house, or school in the case of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, monogram. The night sky above had been cleared so the stars could shine brightly down on them and the general atmosphere reminded Kurt of the celebration feast they had after the end of the Chamber of Secrets debacle, it made Kurt feel like he should be rewarded for his excellence once more but he knew that wouldn’t be the case.

Professor Dumbledore stepped up to his podium and the brass owl opened its wings, “Students of Hogwarts, join me in welcoming the first of our guests. I present to you, hailing from France, the students and staff of Beauxbatons Academy and their Headmistress Madame Maxime.”

The large doors at the back of the Great Hall swung open and through it came a single file line of girls dressed in powder blue tunics and matching Phrygian caps, the girls appeared to be arranged in perfect height order and it was aesthetically pleasing to watch. About halfway down the middle of the path, the first girl let out an exhilarated sigh and the line split into two; each alternating girl going off one way and the next, the other. The girls danced about as they made their way around the front to their seats, as they moved they performed a variation of the avifors enchantment that produced blue butterflies instead of hummingbirds. The last of the girls had entered and she was followed by the staff, of which Kurt recognised Madame Sabine. The last person to enter as part of the Beauxbatons procession was a woman dressed in a black coat with a feather collar as large as Hagrid, her look was intense but no less beautiful to behold; she sashayed to the front of the great hall and received a kiss on the hand from Professor Dumbledore, whom she dwarfed.

“And now I present, hailing from Northern Scandinavia,” Professor Dumbledore announced, “The students and staff of Durmstrang and their Headmaster Don Igor Karkarof.”

The Durmstrang students walked in two straight lines; each young man wore a pair of tan slacks and matching shirt in a manner that reminded Kurt of a military uniform from a movie, a red fur lined cape and topped their uniform with a fur pileus. As they walked, they drummed a steady beat in time with their steps with their walking stick, as they did so Kurt noticed that they were creating sparks on contact with the floor. The younger students took their seat while a group of older students stood in the aisle, they all lifted their walking sticks and created an arch of fire; from it emerged a vaguely familiar student flanked by the staff who wore similar uniforms. The last person to emerge from the tunnel of flames was dressed in white militantesque robes with a long pointed goatee who greeted Professor Dumbledore with a hug and a kiss on each cheek as the tunnel of flames transformed into a large winged beast before disappearing in a flash of embers.

Kurt tuned into the whispers and they served to jog his memory; the vaguely familiar student had been the Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum, he had been reminded by Millicent Bulstrode’s proclamation that she would allow him to do things with her body- Kurt had vomited in his mouth a little. Kurt was distracted from the Slytherin girls discussion of how may worthy suitors there were amongst the Durmstrang staff by a smile and wink from across the dinning, Kurt smiled back.

“Warmest of welcomes to our guests. Now, the Goblet of Fire,” Professor Dumbledore’s words ushered in a large gold box that levitated down the centre aisle, Professor Dumbledore touched the golden box and it began to transform into a tall pedestal, from it came a large golden chalice with blue flames burning out the brim, “So long as this flame burns, the Triwizard Tournament is in play. Here to explain the rules are ministry officials and tournament judges Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman, before I pass the baton on to them I have one final announcement. As part of the intercultural experience that the tournament is based on, each student will be required to part take in subject exchange program; Beauxbatons will be offering the other schools an opportunity to experience Civics, Durmstrang will be offering Dark Arts and Hogwarts, Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Kurt was intrigued by the prospect of both Dark Arts and Civics, “Over to you gentleman.”

“Good Evening,” Ludo Bagman raised his hands above his head like a rock star as he spoke, “it’s great to be here and to be bringing such a legendary event to my Alma Mata feels even better.”

“We are here this evening to inform you of the rules of the Triwizard tournament,” Mr Crouch was a lot more subdued and reserved than Mr Bagman, who was smirking at no one in particular, “Firstly, that the Goblet of Fire is a magically binding contract from which nobody’s name can be expunged. Secondly, that one student will be picked by the Goblet of Fire as the most worthy to represent their school from amongst the entrants. Finally, it has been decided by the Ministry for Magic that due to the dangerous nature of the competition, only students over the age of seventeen will be allowed to enter.”

There were protest all around the hall, almost exclusively from Hogwarts students. Professor Dumbledore put an end to all that with a call for silence, the pair of ministry officials bowed and took their leave. Professor Dumbledore announced the beginning of the evening’s feast with the added implication of giving Kurt the freedom to moved, he jumped out of his seat and navigated around to the Gryffindor long table, grabbed Hermione on his way over to nearer the Ravenclaw long table to where the Beauxbatons students were seated.

Kurt politely tapped the dark haired girl on the shoulder, “Good Evening Aunty Snix and welcome to Hogwarts.”

Santana turned around with eyes wide open, “Grandma, Braceface!” She jumped out of her seat and pulled them into a tight hug, “it has been too long since I last saw you two, look at how you’ve grown.”

“And you?” Hermione made sure to flash her brace free smile at the girl, “You’re practically a young woman now.”

“Do you remember what that used to be like Grandma?” Santana teased as she flung her arms over each of their shoulders, “Being a young woman?”

“It was so long ago,” Kurt giggled, “surely the people have forgotten.”

“What I want to do right at this very moment, before I settle in or eat anything,” Santana took a deep breath and smiled brightly, “is meet Kurt’s imaginary boyfriend that I’ve heard so much about.”

“Why is Cedric imaginary?” Kurt squealed defensively.

“He’s handsome, tall, charming and intelligent,” Santana shook her head in disbelief, “If such a man exists then I might consider switching to men.”

“He also showers Kurt with compliments and worships the ground he walks on,” Hermione added with a giggle as they strolled around the long tables.

“I had that before I had a boyfriend,” Kurt pursed his lips triumphantly.

“Oh yes,” Santana chuckled, “your one man fan club, point him out.”

“I’ll have you know that my fan club’s numbers have grown considerably in the new academic year,” Kurt scolded as he not so subtly pointed out Goyle.

“You’re so out of his league,” Santana chuckled.

“Oh, don’t think Kurt hasn’t told him this,” Hermione laughed loudly, “Kurt once called him repugnant in front of the entire student body.”

“That was a misunderstanding,” Kurt fixed an imaginary stray hair, “Santana Lopez, I want you to meet Cedric Diggory; my perfect boyfriend.” Cedric turned in his seat with a large inviting smile at the sound of Kurt’s voice, “Cedric, this is Santana; she’s a bitch like me.” The two exchanged pleasantries, “And you remember the founding member of my fan club, Finn.”

“Oh yes,” Santana nodded slowly, “your brother.”

“Now,” Hermione gave a small smile as they moved across to the Gryffindor long table, “Slightly more interesting people.”

“Only because you already know the best,” Kurt added with a friendly nudge in Hermione’s side.

“Admetus,” Santana grabbed Neville by the shoulders, “It’s been a minute, you still terrified of Kurt?”

“Mortified,” Neville smiled broadly, “Meet Harry, Ginny, Luna and that’s Kurt’s Ron.”

“You have a Ron?” Santana raised a curious brow.

“Kurt shook his head, “that’s not mine.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Kurt, I’ve been desperate to show this to you for a while,” Hermione fell into the seat beside him and threw a large tome onto the library table, this was the first spare moment they’d had to themselves in a while. Neville kept hanging around Kurt to assure him that they were still friends, Santana- and by extension her friends Harmony and Dani- had taken to their group dynamic quite well and were integrating into their schedule rather organically, Kurt also had a boyfriend who required his attention and as result they had been too swamped to sit down for their information sharing sessions.

Hermione flipped through the book at great speed before presenting it to Kurt. Kurt peered at the title and scanned the explanation, “I don’t really think we have any secrets that we’re desperate to hide, what use is this fidelius charm to us? I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“It’s my reasoning behind something else that I have to explain,” Hermione took a deep steadying breath, “I have to confess that I almost let slip to Harry and Ron about the whole Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange thing because they kept asking me what was wrong with you, why you missed Astronomy and generally getting on my nerves.”

“It’s not like we’re keeping it from them,” Kurt shrugged, “we just haven’t had the right opportunity to tell them.”

“No, I get that and the problem isn’t my near slip but rather that I was unable to tell them,” Kurt pursed his lips in contemplation as he listened to Hermione’s explanation, “I became tongue tied, I could speak normally about everything else before and after but when I tried to speak of the matter in their presence I was unable.” Hermione pointed to the book, “The fidelius charm has an enactor known as the secret keeper, and this enactor is the one who is at liberty to tell people about the secret. I think this might have been used to conceal your identity; it would explain why hypothetically, people who would recognise you simply don’t or make false assumptions. The charm prevents those presented with the secret who are unaware of its existence from recognising it for what it is.”

“So you think when I was given up they used this on me so nobody would know I was their kid?” Kurt raised a curious brow, “that’s a lot of trouble when one considers that somebody must have seen that this woman who was murdering and torturing people left and right was pregnant.” Kurt shook his head, “but that can’t be it, I was able to tell you.”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, “my logic was that most people’s secrets can’t talk and as such the charm doesn’t account for that. If you hide one of your books, it doesn’t scream ‘here I am’ at passers-by.”

“Okay but if Professor Moody found out about me from Bellatrix LeStrange as he claims he did,” Kurt furrowed his brow in deep thought, “How was he able to tell me if he’s not the secret keeper?”

“On transcendental level you already knew,” Hermione shrugged, “I’ve been able to map this out in the time I was waiting to tell you.”

Kurt gave a slow nod as he mulled what he was being told over, “Professor Moody did assume I was feigning ignorance.” Kurt’s eyes suddenly shot wide open, “It was probably some kind of test and now he thinks I was lying about knowing.”

“Well, that means you have to find the time to tell Harry and Ron,” Hermione gave him a pointed look, “before he asks them about it.”

“What are you telling to Harry and Ron?” George asked as he dropped into the set opposite the pair.

“And who might ask them about it?” Fred mused as he sat opposite the pair.

“Something hidden by the fidelius charm,” the pair chorused, “interesting.”

“How can we help you?” Hermione and Kurt chorused.

“Hey,” the twins frowned and crossed their arms, “that’s our thing.”

“We do it better,” Hermione and Kurt smirked as they mirrored the twin’s actions.

“Do not!”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

“We totally do.”

“I have to admit,” Fred shrugged.

George mirrored the action, “they are pretty damn good at it.”

“Now,” Fred gave the pair a smarmy smirk, “we have a favour to ask.”

“We’re going to enter the Triwizard tournament,” George explained.

“But we’re going to need an aging potion to do it.”

“And you can spare us the lecture because we know it’s going to work.”

“So point us in the right direction.”

“And reserve judgement,” they ended in a chorus.

Kurt nodded slowly, “You two don’t have an OWL between you for potions, you’re going to kill yourselves.”

“Fred has one,” George boasted.

“I thought you had one,” Fred whispered back.

“Heavens no, I got one in charms,” George shook his head as he spoke.

“I got one in charms as well,” Fred exclaimed.

“Charming,” Hermione gave a grimace that might have been mistaken for a smile by the less trained eye, “please don’t mistake this for an endorsement but there’s a recipe in _Modern Potioneering_ by Damocles Belby.”

Fred and George peered at the pair suspiciously, “Why do we get the feeling you’re trying to get rid of us?”

“Because we’re trying to get rid of you,” Kurt and Hermione snapped angrily causing the twins to retreat with their hands raised in surrender, “Honestly.”

“Now,” Hermione cracked her joints, “Where were we?”

“We were talking about how I’m apparently a big secret only I and… oh fuck!” Kurt face palmed as he realised his stupidity, “What are the odds of a seer being correct?”

“If you mean Professor Trelawney,” Hermione scoffed, “slim to none.”

“She was right about ‘the darkness within me’,” Kurt shrugged, “I’m apparently a descendant of House Black but I don’t mean her, the man from Hogsmead who I gave my Hermès boating shoes to referred to me as ‘ _you who only five knew_ ’, if that doesn’t sound like the fidelius charm, what does?”

“I think you need to be more upfront with me about the kinds of predictions you’ve been receiving,” Hermione scolded him, “because it’s starting to seem pretty obvious to me.”

“But that’s because you know the answer and now all the little pieces, even unrelated ones, seem to point to it,” Kurt got to his feet and kissed her on the cheek, “but I will tell you every little prediction another time, I have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore that I have to get to.”

“I’m telling you,” Hermione waved him off, “If I had all the information you have on the matter then I would have figured it out ages ago.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Kurt giggled as he gathered his books, “you wouldn’t have been able to recognise it for what it is.”

Kurt walked with purpose as he navigated the Hogwarts maze down to the courtyard that housed the gilded gargoyle that would grant him passage to the headmaster’s office. Kurt was caught unawares when he heard his name being called out, “Hi beautiful.”

“Afternoon sexy,” Kurt cooed behind hooded lids as he and Cedric intertwined their fingers, “how are you?”

“I’m well and yourself?”

“It’s been a trying afternoon,” Kurt shrugged.

“Double Herbology?” Cedric chuckled, punctuating the question with a kiss, “Asked and answered. I wanted to talk to you about my upcoming seventeenth birthday.”

“If you’re expecting a gift,” Kurt stood in his toes and kissed the taller boy, “I have to disappoint, I don’t believe in birthdays other than my own.”

“Finn told me about that,” Cedric laughed, “that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“If it’s about how you're becoming a man,” Kurt wagged a suggestive brow, “I’m all ears.”

“Not about that either,” Cedric’s voice hit an unnaturally high octave, he cleared his throat, “I’ll turn seventeen in time to enter my name into the Goblet of Fire, which I intend on doing.”

Kurt’s smile fell and he untangled his fingers from Cedric’s, “please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m dead serious,” Cedric clenched his jaw for a moment, “I’m a more than capable wizard.”

“I don’t doubt your capabilities, you’re a very talented young wizard but,” Kurt took a deep breath, “People die, you have no need for eternal glory.”

“It’s not about eternal glory,” Cedric wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist, “I don’t need glory, I have you.”

Kurt blushed and leaned up against Cedric’s muscular chest, “then why?”

“It feels right?” Cedric had an intense expression that told Kurt to curb his laughter, “do you ever feel instinctually drawn to something?”

“No, never,” Kurt shook his head, “Although, I guess one might describe my initial attraction to you as instinctual but only if by ‘one’ you mean Hermione. I generally make informed decisions but if you can come back to me after doing all the research you can and tell me that you want to enter then I will support you in any way I can.”

“And I’ll use my winnings to put a down payment on a place in the city,” Cedric smiled, “because you hate the country.”

“It’s impossible to find a Niemen Marcus out there,” Kurt chuckled, “I’m now late for my appointment with Professor Dumbledore.”

“Let him wait,” Cedric crooned as they stood pressed up against each other, “I don’t think I could possibly let you go.”

“You know he can probably see us,” Kurt sniggered, “he’s probably staring down at us from his office in disapproval.”

“Jealousy will make a person do that,” Cedric teased.

“And he has every reason to be jealous of me,” Kurt smiled broadly, “you are quite the catch.”

“You’re just the sweetest,” Cedric let him go but Kurt held on, “I want to _Dimanche_ your face.”

“I want to _Sunday_ your face too,” Kurt planted a final peck before turning and briskly walking toward the gilded gargoyle, “Oreos.” Kurt ascended the stairs at great speed and threw open the office door, “Sorry I’m late.”

“I’m sure you were otherwise occupied,” Professor Dumbledore gave him a knowing smirk.

“I told Cedric that you were watching,” Kurt chuckled as he made himself at home, “It’s been a while.”

“Entertaining a fool and stick in the mud has been rather more time consuming than I could have ever imagined,” Professor Dumbledore shuddered.

“Is that anyway to talk about one’s fellow headmasters?”

“I actually meant Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch,” Professor Dumbledore chuckled, “but those two are something else as well, did you know that Madame Maxime’s Abraxan horses only drink single malt whiskey?”

“My Oma only drinks bourbon,” Kurt shrugged, “but then again, she isn’t the size of an elephant.”

“Oh, what’s her secret?”

“To not being the size of an elephant?” Kurt quirked a curious brow, “she was born human.”

“Hmm, interesting way to go about it but who am I to judge,” Professor Dumbledore shrugged, “what have you been up to?”

“Nothing special,” Kurt shrugged, “Luna’s copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_ mysteriously disappeared and so I had get Carole to mail my old copy, I‘d forgotten how terrible that thing is.”

“Oh yes,” Professor Dumbledore gave a small nod, “You’re no longer taking Care for Magical Creatures, how has that faired with Ms Granger?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” Kurt flicked an imaginary stray hair aside, “Hermione and I are not joined at the hip.”

“I’m sure you’re not or she’d be here as well,” Professor Dumbledore shrugged dismissively, “Let’s discuss your journey back down the trapped door to visit The Mirror of Erised.”

“I can’t even claim to be amazed by your ability to know so much about the goings on here at Hogwarts,” Kurt shook his head in reverence, “I’m used to it by now.”

“My predecessor had one of the darkest wizards of all time taking form right before his very eyes and he had no idea, I’ve learned to keep a closer eye,” Professor Dumbledore gave Kurt a knowing smile.

“Tom Riddle was a model student when he was at Hogwarts,” Professor Dippet’s portrait exclaimed angrily, “Nobody suspected him to be the monster that he turned out to be.”

“He was such a good student that when he opened the Chamber of Secrets, and accused an innocent student and an acromantula of petrifying people you took his word for it,” Kurt buffed a nail against his robes as he spoke.

“Why,” the portrait crossed his arms angrily, “I have never had to take such cheek from a student in all my time as headmaster.”

“It’s because Dumbledore is far too soft in these students,” Phineas Nigellas Black snorted, turning his nose up, “how could they not go wild?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, “It’s actually because we’re having a private conversation, and you paintings should be quiet and grateful that you’ve been afforded the privilege of listening in.”

 “Ten points to Slytherin,” Professor Dumbledore chuckled, “Now about your visit to the mirror, I’m concerned as it has been known to drive people mad and it is also known to capture the attention of men, most end up wasting away in front of it.”

“Spare me,” Kurt waved the man’s concerns aside, “Harry told me about your warning in first year, I didn’t go looking for an instruction manual to happiness.”

“Then why go through the trouble?”

Kurt leaned forward in his seat, “to see my greatest desire.”

“Which was?” Professor Dumbledore moved to the edge of his seat.

“The same thing it’s been all my life,” Kurt reclined lazily, trying to increase Professor Dumbledore’s curiosity.

“Was it to be well liked?”

Kurt burst into a mad fit of laughter, “Heavens no!” Kurt shook his head as he mused to himself, “Me? Well liked? Don’t make me laugh, it was obviously to graduate from Oxford.”

“That’s the one thing you want more than anything in the world?” Professor Dumbledore quirked a suspicious brow. Kurt nodded, Professor Dumbledore shook his head in confusion, “Why?”

Kurt shrugged, “I’ve just always wanted to go to Oxford, I can’t think of any sound reason as to why because my mum went to LSE.”

Professor Dumbledore slowly shook his head, “May I ask what prompted this need to see your deepest desire?”

“I wanted to see if anything had changed when I found out who my parents are,” Kurt smiled, “I’m pleased to report that I will go on and forever remain Kurt Hummel.”

“Say what now?” Professor Dumbledore peered at him in shock over his half-moon shaped spectacles, “When did you find this out.”

“A couple weeks ago,” Kurt shrugged with an eye roll, “Professor Moody thought I already knew and decided it was time for the two of us to discuss the matter.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Hermione suspects the fidelius charm,” Kurt gave the headmaster a nonchalant wave of the hand, “He’s not one of the secret keepers and as such cannot tell people. You should really ask Hermione, it’s her theory.”

“Do tell,” Professor Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat and peered curiously at Kurt, “Who are they?”

“How do you know I can tell?” Kurt quirked a challenging brow, “maybe I too am bound to secrecy.”

“Then how would Ms Granger know?” Professor Dumbledore matched the quirked brow, “She may be the brightest witch of the age but I doubt she has the ability to see through a fidelius charm.”

“Touché,” Kurt reclined in his seat, “I’m not a hundred percent certain but Professor Moody claims that I am the issue of Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange.”

Professor Dumbledore’s jaw went slack and his eyes grew as if his eyes were seeing Kurt for the first time. The man took off his spectacles and cleaned them before replacing them on the bridge of his nose and continuing to gape at the young boy before him, “Oh my god, yes!” The older man jumped to his feet, walked over to the glass cabinet that covered the east wall of his office and retrieved a large shallow bowl with runes printed around the brim, “this explains so much.”

“Okay,” Kurt nodded with a shrug, “What does your pensive have to do with my parents? Did you secretly know this?”

Professor Dumbledore snorted, “I wish I could say I had known but alas, I only knew that there was something familiar about the way in which you carried yourself and now it makes sense. It is as if a fog has lifted and I can now see more clearly all that makes you so… theirs.”

“I’m Christine and Albert Hummel’s,” Kurt corrected, “and that will not change because of some biological relation.” Kurt held up his right hand and pointed to the ring that sat elegantly on his slender fingers, “this is their claim of me as theirs and so long as I wear this ring it is so.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I know you didn’t mean any ill by it but I want you to be aware of that,” Kurt took a deep breath, “I will not be subjected to any kind of bullshit on the grounds of people I’ve never met.”

“But they were influencing your time here at Hogwarts from the very first day,” Professor Dumbledore held up a challenging brow.

“I’m assuming that whilst my hubris makes me at home in Slytherin,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “my pureblood heritage and the generations of Slytherins before me were a larger factor in my placement in the house.”

“And you didn’t ask for anything else,” Professor Dumbledore shrugged.

Kurt chuckled, “I actually did, I asked to be in Hufflepuff.”

Professor Dumbledore guffawed loudly, “You? In Hufflepuff? When pigs fly.”

“I know a spell that can do that.”

“Of course you do,” Professor Dumbledore held out his hand and a vial filled with a dense, almost liquid gas flew across the room and into his palm, “Now, let’s meet the parents. Metaphorically speaking.”

“What? No Azkaban visit?”

“Don’t sass me,” Professor Dumbledore emptied the contents into the pensive and gestured for Kurt to lean forward into the bowl. Kurt did as instructed and felt himself lift out of his seat as he began to fall face first into darkness, around him smoke began to take shape and a rather strange court room took form around him.

“You brought me to their trial?” Kurt quirked a brow as he looked at Bellatrix LeStrange sitting elegantly in the interrogation chair wrapped in chains as if it were her throne and she the Queen; she was exquisitely beautiful and Kurt suspected he would never see the like ever again, her lids hooded seductively and her lips pursed indifferently. Beside her stood three men; two were handsome and shared a resemblance as if they were brothers, they shared her regal elegance and indifference as they stood looking directly into the magistrate’s podium with no remorse; the third man was shrunken, he clearly lacked the bravery that kept the LeStranges looking down their noses at everyone.

Kurt looked them over one by one, Bellatrix’s beauty was tainted by a hidden instability that seemed waiting to rear its head at any given moment. Kurt looked at the woman and wondered what of him had come from her, she had a strong jaw not unlike his own and fair skin that he knew for sure to be his own. Her dark hair fell past he shoulders in wildly delicate curls, Kurt took a moment to look away but couldn’t fight the desire to look back over her slim frame. So much of him had come from her and it made his insides churn to think that he was so much like her, physically and to some degree in personality.

Kurt looked over the two handsome men, his gaze came to rest on the man from the newspaper clipping of their wedding announcement. Rudolphus was tall, much taller than Kurt would grow to be, and he had a thick darkly coloured beard. Kurt’s attention was drawn to his eyes, hidden behind broad features Kurt had not inherited was a pair of cold grey eyes not unlike Kurt’s own eyes. His hair was a lighter shade of brown, more closely related to the chestnut brown of Kurt’s own hair. The man was handsome in an alluring way, Kurt could not look away from the man’s large frame nor could he look away from his powerful features held together by the same cold indifference that Kurt carried himself with.

Between them Kurt could account for almost every fibre of his existence except his upturned nose, they were a handsome couple and between them they had managed a handsome child but Kurt could not for the life of him feel right about the matter until he had every box checked. The answer hit him quickly and he felt dim for not having realised it before, he had seen his nose and Bellatrix LeStrange’s features married once before on the face of Draco’s grandmother.

The scene disappeared around Kurt and he felt himself touch down on his seat, “non-residual liquid.”

“Yes,” Professor Dumbledore nodded, “but what did you think?”

“It was a useful exercise and it served its purpose,” Kurt shook his head slowly, “looking into the faces that made my face beautiful was… it’s something that most people take for granted.”

~0~

“So your parents are death eaters?” Ron nodded slowly, “well, that explains a lot.”

Harry nodded along with him, “so much.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hermione quirked a quizzical brow.

“Well,” Harry scoffed, “You’ve met Kurt, and he’s not exactly black and white about the whole dark arts thing.”

“That’s because this is the real world and nothing is black and white,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “least of all the dark arts.”

“How are the dark arts not black and white?” Ron quirked, “they are bad news, end of story.”

“How’s about when their saving your sister’s life?” Hermione crossed her arms angrily, “or when their stopping Professor Lupin from eating our faces, even if it was temporary.”

“Well,” Ron scratched at the back of his neck nervously.

“Well nothing,” Kurt narrowed his eyes and scowled at the pair before him, “You know most of the worst crimes are born from loyalty, you might consider showing me some every now and again because lord knows I’ve stood by you on your dimmest days.”

“That’s not nice,” Ron protested.

“It’s true,” Harry swallowed deeply, “Kurt always has our back no matter how stupid we’re being.”

“Like we’re not saying you’re a bad dude but…” Ron twiddled his thumbs, “but having death eaters for parents isn’t a good indicator, look at Malfoy or Crabbe and Goyle.”

“Having the good guys as your parents didn’t stop your sister from opening the Chamber of Secrets or you from being a complete asshole,” Kurt shrugged, “and even the Death Eater’s parents couldn’t have all been bad.” Kurt lowered his voice so that it was a nothing more than a menacing growl, “Remember that if I wanted to be the bad guy, I certainly wouldn’t follow Voldemort. Oh no, I’d be the worst guy, civilisations would crumble before me and people would fear to even think of me lest I find out and bring ruin upon them. I would be revered the world round for my terrible beauty and power, whenever you think I’m the bad guy remember how much worse I could make it and remember that I’m on your side.”

“Scary,” Harry mumbled.

“Besides,” Hermione’s tone was indicative of just how fed up she was of this conversation, “Kurt is the same person he was yesterday and will continue to be for all eternity, in this life and the next. Kurt’s parents were the same people all his life and knowing won’t change that.” Hermione gave the pair of boys a pointed look, “so unless you’d like your faces burned, we’ll have no more on the matter.”

“Yes Hermione,” both boys mumbled in a chorus.

“And I’ll have an apology,” Kurt crossed his arms and gave the pair a glair that was indicative of how he meant business.

“Sorry.”

“Come along now,” Kurt gestured for the door, “Cedric will be putting his name into the Goblet of Fire and I promised I’d be supportive despite thinking it’s a foolish idea.”

“You’re such a good boyfriend,” Hermione gave him a playful pat on the shoulder.

“You know I’ve been talking to this girl who thinks I’ll make a great boyfriend too,” Ron added as he squeezed between the two.

“She must be a first year because clearly she’s not familiar with your countless idiosyncrasies,” Hermione chuckled.

“And can we talk about how she’s ‘this girl’ and doesn’t have a name because she’s imaginary,” Harry added with a chuckle.

“And there I was thinking the only girl who would love you was your mother,” Kurt shrugged as they entered the foyer outside the great hall where the Goblet of Fire was being Kept. Kurt gave it a wide berth so as to avoid the age line, he thought it was rather tedious to have an age line when he could put his name into the cup without stepping over the line, “I hadn’t taken into account that the girls in your head might love you as well.”

“Mr Hummel,” Dennis bounced into his peripheral vision, “Have you come to put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

“Mr Hummel is my father,” Kurt giggled, “I am Master Hummel of the Order of the White Lotus but just Kurt will suffice.”

“Sorry, Kurt,” the boy smiled broadly, “Are you going to cross that line and put your name in?”

“I am much to craven to enter,” Kurt shook his head sadly, “but I could put your name in if you’d like.”

“You could put my name in?” the little boy looked like he might lose consciousness from being overly excited.

“Kurt,” Hermione leaned down and whispered in his ear, “are you sure that’s a good idea? What if he gets picked?”

“He won’t get picked,” Kurt shook his head dismissively, “He’s eleven, everyone knows that Angelina Johnson is going to get picked- she’s the prettiest girl in school.”

“This is true,” Hermione nodded.

Dennis wrote his name on a slip of parchment and handed it to Kurt. Kurt tapped the slip of parchment with his wand and it folded itself into a paper plane, and flew past the age line into the blue flames, “who knows, maybe you’ll get picked for being a little handsome devil.”

“Should I be jealous?” Cedric mused as he slipped his arm around Kurt’s waste.

“Oh definitely,” Kurt spoke in a sultry whisper, “Dennis has got it going on.”

“And Dennis is one of Kurt’s favourite names,” Hermione added with a giggle.

“And he’s totally going to get picked as Hogwarts’ Triwizard Champion and I will leave you for him,” Kurt teased before rising to his toes to whisper in his boyfriend’s ear, “you’d have to… convince me to stay with you.”

Cedric untangled himself from Kurt, he stepped over the age line and threw the slip of parchment with his name into the fire. Cedric then wrapped himself around Kurt and kissed him deeply, “I hope you’re convinced.”

“I’m a little tempted,” Kurt wagged a seductive brow.

“Then I’m moving in the right direction,” Cedric cooed in response.

“What happened to the boy who respected us?” Ron grumbled.

“I realised that Kurt was all that mattered,” Cedric dipped Kurt and ravished his neck with gentle kisses, “if he’s happy then the rest of you can feel however you want to feel and it shouldn’t matter to us.”

“Well put,” Kurt preened at the attention, “Aren’t I the luckiest person alive?”

“I think that would be me,” Cedric smiled broadly.

Kurt’s attention was ripped from the moment by the sound of somebody clicking their tongue, Kurt stood up right and scanned the periphery. His gaze came to rest on a group of Durmstrang boys who were pointing and sneering across the room, “I’m sorry, you over there.” Kurt snapped his fingers at them so that they knew that he was talking to them, “have you got something you would like to say to me.”

“I think somebody just woke the dragon,” Harry whispered.

The group was silent but one of them stepped forward; the boy was much taller and probably older than Kurt, he probably intended to frighten Kurt with his size, “I said something.” The boy spoke in a thick eastern European accent, “I said you ought to be ashamed, flaunting such deviance in public.”

“Shame is for ugly people,” Kurt flicked an imaginary stray hair, “which means when I’m done with you, you won’t have any qualms with being shamed by the defeat you will suffer at my hands.”

“And what does the girlyboy think he’ll defeat me in?” the large boy teased.

“Name it,” Kurt quirked a brow, “we could do a magical duel or I could just beat the crap out of you.”

“New levels unlocked,” Hermione squealed gleefully.

“What are you twelve?” the large boy guffawed, “and you think you can take me in a duel?”

“Oh,” Kurt smiled villainously, “I know it. When I’ve defeated you, you’ll apologise to my boyfriend for speaking out the side of your neck.”

“And if I win?”

“Provisions won’t be necessary,” Kurt smirked, “that won’t be happening but you can have whatever your little heart desires.”

“Deal,” the boy smirked.

He and Kurt bowed to each other and had their wands at the ready, the crowd that had gathered around them was dead silent as they watched on as both boys took their starting positions. The older Durmstrang boy started the with a nonverbal curse that Kurt only just dodged with duck to the left, a wiser person might have felt that Kurt had bitten off more than he could chew but Kurt was intelligent, not wise.

“ _Verdillimous_ ,” Kurt flicked his wand elegantly and red sparks flew out of his wand but the larger boy managed to avoid his curse with equal ease. Kurt needed to move more quickly if he was going to embarrass the boy in the way he intended to do, “ _Aguamenti_.”

A spout of water flew out of Kurt’s wand and wet the taller boy, “You wet me? You’re not very good at this.”

The boy flicked his wand and Kurt was thrown a few feet back; between his dance and martial arts training he managed to roll out of the fall but the boy did not desist, he kept knocking Kurt over as soon as he got to his feet in an obvious attempt to embarrass him. Kurt decided that he needed to work during the roll as opposed to waiting till he was upright. This time when Kurt got to his feet he concentrated so that the puddle he had created rose with him and formed itself into a large pair of hands; Kurt smiled whilst the boy was taken aback by the spectacle, clapped his hands once and the large pair of hands did the same, meeting where the boy stood. Whilst the older boy was still disorientated from the hit Kurt flicked his wand, “ _Aculeus_.” There was a flash of purple light and the boy fell to his knees as he was stung by Kurt’s hex, “ _fulgur percusserit_.”

There was a flash of blue lightning and the boy was flung back, defeated. Kurt bowed once more, smiled at the crowd and waved as his peers cheered, “That’s enough Mr Hummel.” The crowd went dead silent and parted to reveal an angry looking Professor McGonagall, “My office, now.”

“Make sure he apologises to Cedric,” Kurt instructed Hermione before bowing his head and following Professor McGonagall to her office in silence.

Kurt seated himself in the seat opposite the elderly woman before raising his line of sigh to meet hers, Professor McGonagall was smiling at him, “that looked to be getting hairy for a moment there.”

“Nonverbal spells are tricky that way,” Kurt shrugged, “it’s difficult to know what’s coming your way.”

“You seemed to have managed pretty well,” Professor McGonagall nodded her head in agreement, “and it’s nice to see that you’re not afraid to stand up for yourself and your beau.”

“I was definitely but he woke the dragon,” Kurt chuckled with a shrug, “it’s strange that my teacher just called him my beau.”

“Is he not your beau?” Professor McGonagall treaded carefully as if she were afraid she might have offended Kurt, “have I misunderstood?”

“There was no misunderstanding, he is my beau,” Kurt nodded rigorously, “it’s just odd coming from you.” Kurt took a deep breath, “am I not in trouble? There is no spell casting in the corridors and I was just spellcasting in the corridors.”

“We have a staff member who turned a student into a ferret and keeps emotionally distressing his students,” Professor McGonagall levelled with him, “your little duel is the least of my worries, maybe your head of house will care.”

“Then why am I here?”

“I have to pretend to care,” Professor McGonagall yawned lazily, “if I don’t then we’ll have a duel breaking out every five minutes.”

Kurt chuckled, “we can’t have that.”

“I’m more worried about the Hogwarts students losing and bringing dishonour on our alma mater,” Professor McGonagall shook her head, “Imagine if Ronald Weasley were to get into a duel, Hogwarts’ reputation would go down.”

“This is true,” Kurt giggled, “we’d probably never recover.”

“Minerva!” Madam Pomphry’s head appeared in Professor McGonagall’s fire place in a blaze of green flames, “There are more bearded Gryffindors in need of disciplinary action here in the hospital wing.”

“I’ll be there in a moment Poppy,” Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes, “You may go Mr Hummel.”

~0~

Kurt was forced to stop reading when Professor Dumbledore dimmed the lights in the Great Hall, “And now through a silence you could cut with a knife, the Goblet of Fire will select the three champions who will go on to compete for eternal glory.” The room was bathed in the soft blue light of the blue flames that filled the golden chalice, Professor Dumbledore stepped up to the cup and rubbed small circles into its side before taking a step back. The flames grew and turned from blue to violet to crimson in a matter of seconds before spitting out a piece of parchment and returning to their normal resting state. Professor Dumbledore snatched the slip of parchment out of the air, “The Durmstrang Champion will be Viktor Krum.”

There was applause all around the great hall but the celebration was loudest at the Durmstrang long table as the tall, angry looking teenager got to his feet and exited the great hall out the front side entrance that led to the trophy room as instructed. Professor Dumbledore commanded silence once more as the flames in the Goblet of Fire began to change colour once more. Again a piece of parchment was ejected and once more Professor Dumbledore snatched it out of the air, “The Champion from Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour.”

The ladies from Beauxbatons celebrated by clapping in a lady like fashion and sighing in elation, “Do they always have to do that damn sighing thing?”

“I don’t know Hermione,” Kurt shrugged, “but it’s getting on my nerves.”

The flames turned colours for the final time and Professor Dumbledore snatched the parchment ejected by the Goblet of Fire out of the air, “And the Hogwarts Champion is Cedric Diggory.”

“I told you Dennis wouldn’t get picked,” Kurt jabbed Hermione in the ribs as he clapped his hands excitedly for Cedric, “that booty is mine.”

“No one contested it,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I know,” Kurt smiled broadly as Cedric disappeared into the adjacent trophy room, “I was gloating.”

“There you have your three champions,” there was wild applause in absentia for the three champions, “but only one will go down in history, only one will lift the chalice victoriously, only one will be the Triwizard Champion.”

At Professor Dumbledore’s final word, the flames began to turn once more, “I smell trouble.”

The cup spat out a piece of parchment and the headmaster angrily snatched it out of the air, “Harry Potter.”

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” Kurt couldn’t help but rolling his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

_Harry:_

“Harry Potter!” Professor Dumbledore roared his name angrily a second time and Kurt pushed him to his feet.

“Time to pay the piper,” Kurt placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before pushing him toward the seething headmaster. From behind Harry there were jeers and heckling as he approached the front of the great hall, Professor Dumbledore handed him the parchment with his name on it and looking down all he could hear in his head was Kurt’s voice telling him that he would surely die in this tournament.

“That’s not my hand writing,” Harry whispered to nobody in particular as he descended the stairs into the trophy room. It was when things like these happened that Harry wondered why this sort of thing happened to him, why couldn’t Hermione had been picked? She would have fared better than he ever would.

“Have they sent you with a message?” Fleur Delacour asked him in a lilted voice with a thick French accent as he joined the three of them by the fire place.

“Not exactly,” Harry’s voice went sharp and he had to clear his throat.

“Are you like my towel boy because Finn will be crushed,” Cedric teased him.

Harry cleared his throat before speaking, “not quite.”

“Then why are you here?” Viktor Krum quirked a bushy brow as he asked in a distinct eastern European accent.

“It is not my hand writing,” Harry shook his head shyly.

“What?” Viktor asked furrowing his brow.

“This is one of my boyfriend Kurt’s friends,” Cedric explained, “they never make any sense.”

“I’ll tell Kurt you said that,” Harry pointed an accusatory finger.

“Does Kurt know you’re down here?” Cedric countered, “He won’t be happy to hear it.”

“Considering he threw out my seat,” Harry shrugged, “I think he has some idea.”

“I’m sure this is the most I’ve ever spoken to you,” Cedric pointed out, “You’re chatty tonight.”

“It happens,” Harry chuckled, “probably the longest I’ve gone without sticking my foot in my mouth.”

“Harry Potter,” Professor Dumbledore’s voice echoed through the room as he came barrelling down the stairs with Madame Maxime and Don Karkaroff in tow, the three headmasters were followed closely by Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, and bringing up the rear were Professors Moody and McGonagall, “Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

“It’s not my handwriting,” Harry held his hands up in surrender.

“Well, of course he is lying,” Madame Maxime rolled her eyes and crossed arms in a manner that reminded him of an overgrown Kurt, “how else would his name have gotten into the cup.”

“I doubt it Madame,” Professor Moody countered, “the goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object and it would take magical abilities well beyond those of a fourth year to confound it. The fact that the Goblet of Fire spit out four names instead of three is a clear indication that there is a confundus charm at work.”

“Depending on the fourth year,” Harry mumbled to himself.

Don Karkaroff turned to Harry with fire in his eyes, “What was that boy?”

“Nothing,” Harry held his hands up in surrender, “I was just thinking to myself.”

“And what is it you were thinking about?” Don Karkaroff pressed him for an answer.

“Well, Professor Moody said that a fourth year couldn’t confound the Goblet of fire,” Harry explained nervously, “I was simply musing that no ordinary fourth year could do it.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Madame Maxime quirked a brow, “You think being the boy who lived makes you an extraordinary fourth year? Is this a confession?”

“This is not a confession,” Harry shook his head rigorously, “I don’t think I’m special but my friend Kurt put a name into the cup with minimal effort.”

“Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore was seething at this point, “Go get Mr Hummel.”

“Kurt’s not the one who did this,” Cedric swooped in to defend his boyfriend, “He’d never do that to me or to Harry.”

“I’m not pointing fingers at Kurt, I know he would never break the rules this way,” Harry nodded in time with Cedric, “besides, this is in cursive, Kurt doesn’t write in cursive. The both of the r’s are normal, Kurt only does capital r’s.”

“He also doesn’t think you’re smart enough to survive this,” Cedric shrugged.

“So he’s given it some thought,” Professor Moody grinned, “I knew that Hummel was a bad seed.”

“Kurt isn’t a bad seed,” Harry spoke out in defence of his friend, “there’s no logical gain for Kurt to put my name into the Goblet of Fire. Besides, Kurt does everything he does exceptionally well; if he was going to be bad, he’d be the worst.”

“Don’t forget to mention that I’d look good doing it,” Kurt cocked a hip as he stood at the top of the stairs. Kurt climbed down with his nose turned up at everyone in the room, he strolled up to Cedric and kissed him on the cheek, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Cedric beamed down at Kurt.

Kurt stepped up to Harry and he couldn’t help but shrink under the boy’s scrutinous gaze, “whatever am I to do with you?”

Harry shrugged, “Love me, feed me, tickle my tum?”

“You need a haircut,” was all Kurt could manage to say before shaking his head and turning to the visiting champions, “Hi, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and I’d like to congratulate you on being selected.”

“Merci,” Fleur smiled at Kurt and gave a small curtsey, “you are so very beautiful.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you,” Kurt clutched his chest dramatically and Harry had to hold back a chuckle, “So are you.”

Harry realised as he watched Kurt exchanging pleasantries with the other champions that he hadn’t so much as introduced himself, Kurt would probably give him a long lecture on etiquette if he knew how he’d fallen down on the job.

“Mr Hummel,” Professor Dumbledore waved him over to where the adults were congregated, “a word.”

Harry watched Kurt bounce across the room, he and Professor Dumbledore had a hushed argument that ended promptly when Kurt crossed his arms and spoke a single word that Harry couldn’t make out. They then turned to the room at large with broad matching smiles, “Barty, can we get Harry removed from the tournament?” Mr Crouch shook his head to the negative, “Didn’t think so. After seeking council, I have come to the conclusion that Mr Potter did not put his own name into the cup and is the victim of circumstance however he is now the fourth Triwizard champion and there is nothing we can do about it.”

Madame Maxime raised a curious brow, “Did you just seek council from a twelve year old?”

“I’m fourteen,” Kurt corrected.

“But, yes,” Professor Dumbledore nodded, “Kurt’s advice is very important to me, he possesses a knack for rules that I’m yet to see matched by anyone of his age… or your age.”

“Blasphemy,” Madame Maxine looked appalled by what Professor Dumbledore was saying, “you never mention a woman’s age.”

“I suggest that we keep putting names into the cup from our schools until each school has two champions,” Don Karkaroff crossed his arms indignantly.

“Can’t,” Kurt shrugged, “the cup is in hibernation till the next tournament.”

“See,” Professor Dumbledore gestured to Kurt, “he knows everything.”

Kurt gave a self-satisfied smile and Harry had to stifle back a laugh, “I read.”

~0~

“Okay,” Harry peered at Kurt’s working space to see what he had missed as his potion wasn’t purple as it should be but rather it was a waxy yellow, “what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, you never do anything wrong,” Ron muttered, “you’re perfect.”

“Thank you Ron,” Harry smiled, “but you’re the last person I’d ask for help in potions if I wanted to do well.”

Neville punched the air triumphantly, “promotion.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt peered into his cauldron, “are you sure you didn’t over stir the armadillo bile?”

“It would be darker if that were the case,” Hermione hissed as she looked up from her perfect brew, “he probably added too much ginger root too early and that’s why it’s yellow instead of green.”

“Silence in the back,” Snape snapped at them, “ten points from Gryffindor.”

“Thanks a lot Harry,” Ron sulked, crossing his arms.

“Ronald,” Kurt lifted the goggles he’d taken to wearing to all their ‘outdoorsy’ classes since that mandrake had thrown dirt in his eye in their second year, “did you by chance notice that you have had a problem with each of us and decided to not speak to each as a result, now a more gracious observer might sympathise with you and wish you’d picked your friends better but I personally think there’s something wrong with you.” Harry gaped as he watched Kurt telling Ron off, “you are after all the constant in these cases and therefore one might be able to deduce that you should be the one to change your behaviour.”

“I know whose side you’re on,” Ron crossed his arms angrily, “I’ll be sure to tell Cedric.”

Kurt poured a class of his potion and handed it to Ron, “this will temporarily make you smart enough to stop talking out the side of your neck.”

“If you, Mr Hummel,” Professor Snape looked up from his desk, “have managed to brew a wit-sharpening potion of such a high quality that it can make Weasley smart, I will end this class early.”

“Making Ron smart enough to realise that he’s wrong will need a perfect brew,” Hermione pointed out.

“I guess I need to keep working on this then,” Neville grumbled as he returned to working on his solidified brew.

“A little faith would be nice,” Kurt crossed his arms angrily, “I may not be the best potioneer in the class but I am amazing at following instructions and these were pretty clear.”

Harry watched on as Kurt pulled out his wand but Snape intervened, “No need to confound Weasley, he’s sufficiently dim all on his own.”

“Hey,” Ron protested as he took a sip of the yellow liquid, “I don’t feel any smarter.”

“How would you know what smart feels like Weasley?” Draco scoffed.

“As somebody who experiences a limited scope of intelligence I’m able to extrapolate and deduce what true intellect must feel like,” Ron beamed, “this is what Hermione and Kurt must feel like all the time, no wonder you’re so full of yourselves.”

“Hemmingway said that it was not noble to believe yourself better than your peers,” Hermione pointed out with a small smile.

“Obviously Hemmingway would say something that daft,” Kurt scoffed, “he was a drunk, he couldn’t think he was better than anyone.”

“I’ve deemed this brew satisfactory to rid me of you,” Professor Snape let out a haggard breath, “you may go, ten points Mr Hummel.”

“He made Weasley smart,” Pansy Parkinson protested, “only ten points? Stingy!”

“Twenty points,” Professor Snape rolled his eyes as if he wasn’t happy to be awarding points to his own house.

“Did Pansy Parkinson just stick up for Kurt?” Hermione’s mouth flapped open and closed as she tried to make sense of what was happening, “what’s the world coming to?”

“Remember how they were once spreading salacious rumours about us?” Kurt quirked a brow.

“I remember,” Neville grumbled, “let the record reflect that I only made out with Finn, nothing more.”

“We believe you Neville,” Harry teased.

“It doesn’t sound like you believe me,” Neville eyed Harry suspiciously.

“I believe you because we didn’t go further than that,” Hermione explained.

“I didn’t go further than that with Harry either,” Finn peered into their circle.

Kurt’s eyes went wide and Harry worried for Finn’s health, “you’ve listened to that Ella Fitzgerald song too many times.”

“ _I taught him everything he knows_ ,” Finn crooned merrily as he got out of Kurt’s swinging range.

Kurt pointed an angry finger at his brother, “stop making out with my friends or I’ll make out with your friends and all your little quidditch team mates too.”

“And I will respect you for it,” Finn shouted back, “just like I respect you for getting Cedric to let go his whole chastity thing.”

Harry’s jaw went slack, Kurt flushed, Neville chuckled and Hermione wagged a suggestive brow, “You can’t shout things like that, it’ll give people the wrong idea.”

“What?” Finn called out, gesturing to his ears, “I can’t hear you.”

“I know you can hear me,” Kurt scolded, “you just responded.”

Harry was beyond being scandalised by the Hudson-Hummel siblings, he’d come to accept them for all that they were, “That happened.”

“Let the record reflect that while I may have gotten Cedric to let go of his inhibitions,” Kurt squared up with the trio, “I have not taken his chastity… yet.”

“Ten points to Slytherin,” Neville whispered as he whipped away imaginary tears of joy.

“You were explaining about Pansy Parkinson being nice to you,” Hermione giggled, “can she smell the pure-blood on you?”

“Funny but no. It’s actually quite simple, what might have been construed as scandalous in second year,” Kurt flashed them a devilish smile, “makes you wildly popular in fourth year.”

Hermione shook her head, “I knew puberty would ruin the world.”

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” he turned to see Colin bouncing excitedly toward him.

“Hide me,” Harry tried to duck but it was far too late, he’d been spotted.

“You should consider treating your fans as well as I treat mine,” Kurt chuckled before stepping between him and Colin, “how can we help you?”

“I have a message for Harry,” Colin tried to peer around his human shield but Kurt moved swiftly, blocking his every move.

“Mr Potter isn’t entertaining guests at present,” Kurt raised a cautionary brow and Harry knew the small boy was in for it, “Why aren’t you in class?”

“Because I was sent with a message for Harry Potter,” Colin crossed his arms, clearly unaware of who he was dealing with.

“And who sent you with this message?”

“Mr Bagman,” Colin furrowed his brow.

“Mr Bagman doesn’t teach at Hogwarts, he doesn’t have the authority to pull you out of class,” Kurt smirked, “which subject are you supposed to be having?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I could always ask my boyfriend, the prefect,” Kurt pursed his lips, “or my good friend Professor Dumbledore.”

Colin swallowed a lump, “I’m supposed to be in History of Magic. I just came to tell Harry that Mr Bagman wanted him for a photoshoot and wand weighing ceremony in the trophy room adjacent to the great hall.”

“I’ll pass your message on,” Kurt pointed down the corridor, “Back to History of Magic before I have you thrown in detention.”

“You know Kurt,” Hermione grinned at her best friend, “you have a way with kids I don’t think I’ve ever seen replicated anywhere.”

“I hate kids and you know it,” Kurt crossed his arms indignantly.

“And I’m sure kids hate you,” Harry teased, “see you guys later, I have celebrity work to do.”

“I love you but please die,” Neville shouted as he waved Harry off with raised middle finger.

Harry walked as slowly as he could to the trophy room, hoping that by the time he got there they would be done. Unfortunately he arrived to find that they’d been waiting for his arrival to begin.

Harry was blinded by the flash of the camera as soon as he walked through the door, Mr Bagman swung an arm over his shoulder, “Ah, Harry my boy. You’re here and now we can begin.”

“No,” Harry unhooked the man’s arm from his shoulder, “we’re not doing this touching thing.”

“You’re a funny little bugger,” the man chuckled, “Now, we have Mr Ollivander here to check if your wands are up to code.”

“Afternoon Mr Ollivander,” Harry shook the man’s hand with a questioning glance, “who is watching your shop if you’re here?”

“Still asking the hard questions Mr Potter,” Mr Ollivander chuckled.

Harry quirked a brow, “you obviously have me confused with the other dark haired boy with glasses, but then again Kurt is more famous for making demands than asking questions.” Harry turned to his fellow champions, each flanked by their respective headmaster; he shook Fleur Delacour’s hand and then kissed Madame Maxime ring as he apologised for being late, “I also wish I wasn’t here.”

“Oh but you are funny,” Madame Maxime smiled as she snatched her hand back, “We cannot change what already is, so I say what will been will be.”

Harry then shook the hand of Viktor Krum, “sorry for keeping you waiting, I just found out about this whole event and like with the rest of this tournament, I had not planned to participate.”

Viktor Krum gave him a fierce scowl, “why do I not get my hand kissed?”

“Forgive me,” Harry shrugged, “I was raised in a cave.”

Don Karkaroff refused to shake his hand on the grounds that he was a cheat, Harry didn’t waste his breath defending himself. Cedric shook his hand and shrugged, “Kurt says you didn’t put your name in the cup.” Cedric flashed him a million dollar smile, “he also said it doesn’t matter if you did.”

“Young Viktor is correct,” Professor Dumbledore held out a hand with long thin fingers, “Let us not discriminate, kiss the ring.”

Harry gave a bashful smile, “is this Bvlgari?”

“As a matter of fact it is,” Professor Dumbledore smiled, “you have a good eye.”

“Not really,” Harry chuckled, “Kurt told me to ask if ever the opportunity presented itself, said there was a tale about the founder gifting it to you.”

Professor Dumbledore shook his head, “Another time.”

“Another country,” Harry heard himself saying unexpectedly.

Cedric rolled his eyes, “don’t tell me you’re saying that now as well.”

“I’d never said it till now,” Harry shrugged.

“Let’s have Ladies first,” Mr Bagman wagged his brow at Fleur as he spoke.

Fleur stepped up to Mr Ollivander and handed him an ornately carved wand. Harry watched on as the man eyed the wand, gave it slight wave and shook his head.

“What is wrong?” Fleur demanded.

“This wand is Veela hair,” Mr Ollivander explained as if shocked by this discovery.

“Oui,” Fleur crossed her arms indignantly, “it is a hair from my Grand-Mère.”

Harry couldn’t equate Fleur with the Veela from the world cup, she didn’t have the same effect on him as they did; he supposed that she might have just been part-veela as he still thought she was supernaturally beautiful.

“Veela hair makes for temperamental wands, that is why I don’t use it in my wand making,” the wand maker’s tone was matter-of-fact, “the combination of veela hair with rosewood has made for an inflexible wand but it should suffice in the hands of its master.”

“Diggory,” Mr Bagman gestured for Cedric to take centre stage, “up and at ‘em.”

Cedric handed his wand over and Mr Ollivander smiled, “this is one of mine and it’s in good shape, must be well cared for.”

“Polished it last night,” Cedric smiled, clearly glad that his efforts had been noted.

“Oh yes,” Mr Ollivander smiled to himself, “the unicorn I plucked this hair from was a tall, strapping male not unlike you’ve grown to be and the combination with ash makes it nice and springy. You must excel in transfiguration.”

“He’s the best we’ve had since Professor McGonagall herself was a student,” Professor Dumbledore interjected with a smile, causing Cedric to blush, “We’ve been trying to convince him to begin animagus training but he views the skill as superfluous.”

“This wand is more than suitable and is in very capable hands,” Mr Ollivander smiled fulsomely.

“Harry, my boy,” Mr Bagman gave him a broad grin and his inner Kurt wanted to tell the man that they were not friends but he repressed that voice, it was not useful in this situation.

Harry fished his wand out of his robes and handed it to the grey haired man, “another one of mine, not as well kept.” All Harry could do was grumble a nonsensical reply, “Phoenix tail feather, Holly, nice and supple. How’s his charms?”

Harry turned to see Professor Dumbledore shrug, “meh.”

“This wand is suitable for use,” Mr Ollivander relented upon learning that Harry wasn’t a stellar charms student.

“Viktor Krum,” Mr Bagman seemed as enthusiastic to welcome the Bulgarian seeker as he was when he’d welcomed Harry.

“Ah, Gregorovitch,” Mr Ollivander smiled broadly as he received the curved wand, “my old friend.”

“Yes,” Viktor gave shy smile that threw Harry for a loop, “I was one of the last people to buy one.”

“His work was excellent right until his retirement,” Mr Ollivander was beaming as he sniffed the wand, “Hornbeam, Dragon Heartstring and thicker than usual- rigid.” The old man nodded to himself, “I suspect you know your way around a hex and a jinx and a curse or two.”

“He was top of his year in his Dark Arts standardised test,” Don Karkaroff gloated.

Mr Ollivander nodded, “this wand is more than suitable.” He handed Viktor back his wand, “With that I wish you all the best and bid you a due.”

Harry watched the headmaster lead the man out the door, they were followed by the Madame Maxime and Don Karkaroff. They were left alone with Ludo Bagman, a tiny blond woman and a photographer, “This is Rita Skeeter.” Mr Bagman explained as he grouped them together for a photo, “and I will leave you in her charge.”

“Four champions, four stories,” The small blond woman smiled broadly as Mr Bagman left, “What thoughts are brooding beneath those muscles?  What secrets are hidden by that ridiculous mop of hair? What makes each Triwizard Champion tick? My readers and I would like to know.” She grabbed Harry by the arm, “I’ll speak to the youngest first.”

She pulled Harry into a broom closet that she’d converted into a mini office of sorts, “hi.”

“Hi, you don’t mind if I use a quick quotes quill, do you?” Rita Skeeter didn’t wait for a reply, “now, what would make a young boy of twelve like yourself enter such a dangerous tournament?”

“I’m actually fourteen,” Harry corrected her, “and I didn’t enter.”

“Right,” Rita Skeeter winked at him but he wasn’t sure why, “Is it true your friend Kurt Hummel entered your name for you?”

“What? No!” Harry crossed his arms, “Kurt has nothing to do with this.”

“Touchy subject,” she gave him a devious smile, “Are you not afraid that the older champions will not only have you outclassed with skill but also with emotional maturity.”

“I can’t really do anything about that now, can I?” Harry’s irritation was showing and he wished he wasn’t allowing her to bait him like she was.

“Now, let’s talk about your parents,” Rita Skeeter leaned forward, “were they alive today, would they be supportive of you entering such a dangerous tournament or would they be worried about your fragrant disregard for the rules.”

“Okay,” Harry got to his feet, “I’m done.”

“Already?” the blond woman quirked a brow, “but we were just getting started, “I still have so much to ask. Surely you wouldn’t want me to make the rest up.”

“You’re making it up anyway,” Harry shrugged, “I won’t legitimise this interview with my presence.”

“As a lazy tailor would say,” Rita Skeeter shrugged, “suit yourself.”

~0~

_Viktor:_

Harry stormed out of the broom closet and an irritated looking mousy woman waved Viktor over, he approached with caution, “Good morning Madam.”

“Hi Hotstuff,” She smiled up at him and gestured for him to take a seat in what he was guessing was a make shift office, “let’s start with your exercise regimen, how do you keep those biceps so… scrumptious?”

Viktor was a little taken aback by how forward the blond lady was being, “well, every morning I do a set of push-ups and pull-ups. I also lift weights.”

“Lift weights?” She raised a questioning eyebrow, “how much do you bench? Could you bench me?”

Viktor took a moment before answering, “It would not be effective because I bench too much more than you weigh.”

“Hmm,” the tiny woman gave him a salacious grin, “are you as ripped everywhere?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Rita lowered her voice to a whisper, “Are all your… muscles impressive?”

“How is this relevant?”

“Well, my readers would like to know what kind of shape the champions are in,” she reclined in her seat, “it’ll inform who they choose to support.”

“As a professional sportsman my body is, to some degree, my instrument,” Viktor agreed, “but I also have great magical skills like the flying and I received very high marks in my transfiguration, dark arts, spell casting and potion brewing standardised tests.”

“That’s nice,” Viktor realised that the woman was not paying attention to what he was saying.

“Why are you not writing any of this down?”

“It’s all up here,” she pointed to her empty looking head, “now, how do you feel about the surprise entry of Harry Potter?”

“Harry Potter,” Viktor shrugged, “I’m not intimidated, the more the merrier.”

“I somehow had a feeling you would say something boring like that,” the woman let out a defeated sigh, “I guess I have to do everything myself. You may go.”

~0~

_Cedric:_

“Handsome,” Rita Skeeter waved him over, “this is probably the interview that I’m most looking forward to.”

“It is?” Cedric quirked a curious brow, a habit he’d picked up from Kurt, “I’d have thought Harry’s surprise entrance would be the story of the news cycle. Not that I’m not flattered.”

“Oh, you're so modest,” she let out a little chuckle, “Firstly, let’s talk about the hair. How do you get it so perfect?”

“Kurt got me this organic hairspray,” Cedric shrugged, hair was such an odd thing to discuss but Kurt had told him to remain gracious for the entirety of the interview and answer as honestly as possible, “it all just sort of stays in place after that.”

“Speaking of Kurt…”

“I thought we were discussing my hair,” Cedric was now on the defensive, “I don’t want to talk about Kurt.”

“Oh,” Rita Skeeter leaned forward curiously “why is that? Trouble in paradise?”

“No, you just portray him in an unflattering light,” Cedric crossed his arms, “you’re always printing lies about him and as such he’s out of bounds.”

“Little old me? Print lies?” Rita Skeeter’s tone was patronising, “there’s no evidence that says the things I print aren’t true.”

“The fact that you change your story every now and again is indicative of the fact that your stories are fabricated,” Cedric barked angrily, “besides, everyone knows how far from the truth you really are.”

“Is that so?”

“If you knew Kurt then you would know that he is thoughtful and Kind, he’s caring and gentle,” Cedric shook his head, “and he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, maybe baring Hermione Granger.”

“That’s sweet,” she gave him a saccharine smile, “but if I printed that, I’d be out of a job. My readers don’t want to know how shy and sentimental Kurt Hummel is, they want to know whether he’s the next dark lord. They want to know where he came from, what his life’s dreams are, who he’s murdered.”

Cedric scoffed, “how would you know the answer to that, you’ve never even spoken to him.”

“Would you get me an interview?”

“Kurt would probably set himself on fire before speaking to you,” Cedric chuckled.

She quirked a brow, “I’d pay money to see that.”

“So would Kurt,” Cedric chuckled.

“How long have you two been a thing?”

“A year at the end of November,” Cedric smiled.

“And how would you describe his relationship with Harry Potter?”

“Their good friends,” Cedric shrugged, “they sometimes just talk to each other in Parseltongue, it’s their thing.”

“And you aren’t worried you might lose your boyfriend to a more famous wizard?”

“I’m probably more likely to lose him to Hermione Granger,” Cedric chuckled, “they don’t even need words.”

“Hermione Granger?” Rita Skeeter smiled menacingly, “I think we just made the front page.”

“You can’t print any of this,” Cedric scoffed, “it’s mostly nonsensical garbage, where’s the story?”

“Not exactly garbage,” Rita Skeeter wagged a finger, “this is some interesting stuff and it will make quite the story, maybe even two articles. I’m going to let you in on a secret, it takes an artist to make it in journalism.”

“Two articles? Based on what?” Cedric furrowed his brow in confusion, “you didn’t ask any real questions. Is it all going to be fabricated?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me,” Rita Skeeter giggled as she shooed him off, “I’m a real journalist and I know what I’m doing.”

~0~

_Fleur:_

“I guess I’ll be seeing you as well,” the short journalist woman groaned as she leaned out of the broom closet, “come along.”

“Bonjour, I am Fleur Delacour,” Fleur gave a polite smile but the woman did not reciprocate.

“So,” she seemed to be doing this out of duty rather than the enthusiasm she had shown the others, “you’re the rose among the thorns?”

“Oui,” Fleur tried to keep her demeanour sunny despite the contempt she was receiving from the journalist, “I am the only girl.”

“What does a pretty girl like you want from such a dangerous event?”

“I would like very much to win,” Fleur nodded firmly, “I want to prove that the girls have what it takes to stand on par with the boys.”

“That’s cute,” the woman flashed her a condescending smile, “a little suffragette. And what does the little feminist think of Harry Potter’s last minute entrance into the tournament?”

“I think it is so very appalling,” Fleur crossed her arms, “he has no place in this tournament. Why should Hogwarts get two champions but not Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?”

“That’s enough for now,” the woman was packing her things away.

“Do you not want to ask me about my strategy?”

“Not really,” and with that she was out the door.

~0~

_Harry:_

Harry watched in awe as Kurt rubbed gently circles into the side of his neck with a toothbrush whilst looking at himself in the mirror, “I’ve never seen a toothbrush used like that.”

“It is an effective remedy for love bites,” Kurt put the toothbrush down and grabbed a compact and started to put powder on the dark spot above his collar bone.

“Why do you let Cedric brand you like livestock if it takes so much effort to cover it up?” Hermione rolled her eyes as she looked over the piles of make-up that Kurt was using.

“Firstly, he does not brand me,” Kurt rolled his eyes right back at her, “Secondly, I’m only covering it up because I don’t think it’s appropriate for school but on the whole I wouldn’t really mind walking around with the love bites visible for all to see if there wasn’t the threat of Professor McGonagall seeing and disapproving.” Kurt switched compacts to a colour that looked exactly the same to Harry, “Thirdly, it is an act of mutual sexual pleasure.”

“Are you sure it isn’t painful,” Hermione eyed him suspiciously, “it is a bruise for all intents and purposes.”

“Sometimes pain is pleasure,” Kurt shrugged.

“I did not just hear that,” Hermione grimaced and Harry couldn’t help laughing.

“You know lions have spikey penises and lionesses still let them bone,” Luna stated with a shrug as she twirled her pale golden hair between her fingers, “why not humans?”

Kurt was flustered for a moment before nodding, “I wasn’t taking it quite that far but Luna has a point.”

“You get used to being right when you’re Luna,” Harry chuckled.

Neville let out wilful sigh, “what would I give if just for a day I could get used to always being right?”

“It’s not as fun as it sounds,” Hermione shook her head.

“People come to resent you for it,” Kurt mirrored the movement whilst applying a flesh coloured balm to his neck.

“People like to get worked up,” Harry grumbled, “I’m just glad we’re missing most of breakfast because I’m getting tired of the sly remarks and Cedric’s fanbase loving him by hating me.”

“Harry,” Luna jumped down from where she’d been sitting indian style atop a basin and grabbed his hand, he smiled, “meet Hermione, Kurt and Neville, I’m Luna Lovegood.”

“Luna,” Harry was confused by what she was doing, “I know all of you.”

“Well, you don’t seem to be acting like it,” she scolded him, “We will do nothing but support you but what we need is for you to open yourself to receiving said support.” Harry was almost certain that if it had been somebody less docile giving him this talking to they might have grabbed him by the ear, “you need to realise that the people who matter don’t care, and the people who care don’t matter.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Hermione nodded her support of Luna’s statement.

Kurt shrugged, “I could try to say it better but it wouldn’t really be necessary.” Kurt stood back from the mirror and eyed him, “Perfect, now maybe Professor McGonagall might not ask my about my beau.”

“Did she actually call him that?” Neville giggled.

“She did!”

“I can’t imagine it,” Harry chuckled, “thank you Luna, I guess you take for granted what you actually have.”

“We’ll forgive you on one condition,” Kurt turned to him with a devilish grin, “Kiss the ring.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Now that that that’s done,” Kurt eyed himself in the mirror and was satisfied to see all evidence of his exercise meeting with Cedric hidden, he removed his makeup bib and smiled at his friends, “Hermione will go change and meet us at breakfast, then we’ll be off.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing,” Hermione rolled her eyes at him as they filed out of the bathroom, “besides, I shan’t be joining you today.”

Kurt clutched his chest in shock, “but I love you.”

“I have my session with Professor Burbage today,” she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I also have administrative work to do and I’d like to go to the library sometime today.”

“Why do you have a session with Professor Burbage,” Neville quirked a suspicious brow at Hermione, “I thought you were no longer taking muggle studies.”

“I’m not taking it as part of my core subjects,” Hermione explained, “I do it as independent study.”

“You guys didn’t think we’d just give up on getting twelve OWLs,” Kurt scoffed, “Heavens no, when we jeopardised the integrity of our time turners to save ourselves on the lake last year we had contingent plan in place.”

“Kurt had a contingent,” Hermione corrected, “my life has some semblance of normalcy so I don’t make plans in case I have to save myself from a fate worse than death.”

“Bet you do now,” Kurt smirked but Hermione shook her head to the negative, “you really should.”

Harry furrowed his brow, “So you have class now?”

“Not now,” Hermione shook her head, “in about an hour, and it’s not really class as an information session I have to write a paper on by the end of the term.”

“So you’re never going to Hogsmead?” Neville gaped.

“Of course she’ll be going to Hogsmead,” Luna assured Neville, “I’m sure she’d have gone if the visit had been on its scheduled day, last Saturday, but since it was pushed due to preparations for the announcement of Triwizard Champions the following day it created a clash.”

Hermione moved to speak but Kurt stopped her, he rolled of his eyes as they sat down for breakfast, “Let me guess, you couldn’t have said it better yourself?”

“I was actually going to tell them that we only have one session a term,” Hermione smiled devilishly, “but that too.”

“Jealousy is a beautiful colour on you,” Dani teased as she and Santana joined their group.

Kurt eyed the pair, “You’re overdressed.” Kurt let out a small giggle, “You’re going to be so disappointed by Hogsmead.”

“Why does it seem like you’ll derive pleasure from our disappointment?” Dani gave him a cautious glance with a slight flick of her honey blonde hair, “Besides, you’re wearing a button up and a cape, I don’t think you're one to talk about anyone being overdressed.”

“But that’s because I always look like this and I have realistic expectations,” Kurt gave a devilish smirk, “but you are correct, the misfortunes of others bring me more joy than you could ever imagine.”

“We have that in common,” Santana gave their audience a matching evil grin, “that’s why I stole this morning’s paper from a defenceless ginger.”

Kurt looked at paper that Santana had furnished, “ _Lucky Number Four_?” Kurt read the headline and grinned broadly, “For a change somebody has presented me with a copy of The Daily Prophet in which I’m not featured.”

“I think you might want to read on before making grand proclamations of joy,” Santana cackled menacingly.

“ _With the ‘Surprise’ entry of Harry Potter as the fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament, it now looks like four may be the new lucky number. Harry Potter’s eyes were swimming with the memory of his dearly departed parents when this reporter sat down with him, and for the duration of our interview I could feel how even to this day the boy of twelve was haunted by the loss of his family. Harry Potter tells this reporter that the only thing that allows him pause from the emotional turmoil that plagues him daily, sometimes culminating in the boy who lived crying himself to sleep, is his love quadrangle with Hermione Granger, Kurt Hummel and his boyfriend._ ” Kurt took a deep breath and clenched his teeth for a moment, “how long have we been a love quadrangle?”

Hermione snatched the newspaper from Kurt, “ _Hermione Granger, the best friend of Kurt Hummel, is a plain but ambitious girl who has won the heart of the boy who lived whilst harbouring feelings for her best friend._ ” Hermione chuckled and turned to Kurt, “I only think of you as a friend.”

“As do I,” Kurt nodded his agreement.

“It goes on to talk about how Four Eyes and Hair are in competition for the affections of Grandma,” Santana explained, “At the same time, Four Eyes is trying to emulate Grandma to impress Braceface.”

“What?”

“Harry and Cedric are in competition for Kurt’s affections, and Harry is trying to impress Hermione by acting more like Kurt,” Luna explained, “may I be excused? I’ll meet you guys at the gate.”

“She’s really smart,” Harry gaped after her, “all the oddities sometimes distort that but she’s brilliant.”

“Understanding Santana is barely a sign of genius but we’ll take your word for it,” Dani shrugged, “So, love quadrangle?”

“Sounds like a bad cover band,” Hermione giggled, “but so not a thing.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t make your lives hell,” Neville pointed with a smirk, “I can just imagine what Ron thinks of this and the Slytherins will have Harry for the bit about crying himself to sleep. I wouldn’t wish to be you today in Hogsmead.”

“I, as always, have made a concession plan,” Kurt preened at his own magnificence and praise, “you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about your new fans.”

Harry scowled at Kurt as he pulled him by the cheek, “Do you always have to be so goddamned condescending?”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded in shock, “how else am I supposed bear the burden of human kindness?”

“Graciously,” Hermione suggested, “like most people.”

“Don’t bear it,” Santana suggested, “like me.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, “the question was rhetorical.”

“I thought ‘do you want to fuck me?’ was the rhetorical question,” Neville furrowed his brow.

“Both are rhetorical,” Kurt nodded with a suggestive wag of his brow.

“Save it for Cedric,” Harry teased.

“That’s who I heard him ask the question,” Neville shuddered, “I did not stick around for the answer.”

“Life was punishing you for eavesdropping,” Kurt scolded, “the whole point of rhetorical questions is that they need no answer.”

“Kurt is the only person who gets everything they want,” Hermione gave the group a sweeping gaze, “so regardless of how Cedric would have answered, his wishes weren’t a priority.”

“I have so much fun teasing him,” Kurt mused to himself, “but I don’t get everything I want, there are still no straighteners at Hogwarts, and you’re doing admin without me instead of coming to Hogsmead with me.”

“I think what I’m doing is a little more important than your hurt feelings,” Hermione shrugged and Kurt gaped at her, “what?”

“You just blasphemed,” Kurt shook his head, “what would drive you to such extremes?”

“I’m starting a club,” Hermione smiled glowingly, “the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare.”

“Oh,” Kurt’s wasn’t expecting this, he had thought it might have been schoolwork but this sounded just as good to him, “tell me more.”

“I think it is time that we as young wizards took a stand against the enslavement of house elves,” Hermione crossed her arms, “I’ve been doing a lot of research on the matter since the incident at the world cup with Mr Crouch’s house elf.” Hermione looked to be in a zone as she explained her motivation, “the way that house elves are treated is appalling and it’s time something was done.”

“It’s a travesty that it has taken this long for somebody to call for the abolition of elvish slavery,” Kurt nodded his agreement, “but I feel like the cause will catch on better if it’s against something; negative freedom is a lot more popular than positive freedom.”

“I don’t follow,” Hermione pursed her lips in question.

“People are gladder to be free from something rather than free to do something,” Kurt smiled, “Being free from imprisonment sounds better than simply not being incarcerated.”

“I don’t think the marketability of the cause really matters,” Dani intervened, “isn’t the fact that Hermione has decided to take a stand for what is right more important?”

Santana shook her head, “I think Kurt has a point, a well branded cause is more likely to become wildly popular and/or attract a celebrity endorsement that will exponentially increase the number of people who now know about her cause.”

“Yes,” Dani countered, “but what if people don’t really care and are only participating because it is a fad instead of for the benefit of the cause?”

“I think it doesn’t matter how she does it,” Neville cut Santana off before she and Dani could carry on arguing, “so long as Hermione does this in a way that feels right to her and retains the initial integrity that she had when she came up with the idea.”

“Neville’s right,” Kurt nodded, “Not more right than I am, just differently right.” Kurt held out a hand and Hermione took it, “once your club is ready to start accepting members, I will be the first to sign up- if you will have me.”

~0~

Kurt entered the Hog’s Head Inn and made a mental note never to accept concierge advice from a man who thought that a beaver skin coat was the it outerwear piece of the season, Kurt should have heeded his gut instinct to go running for the hills when Hagrid had marketed the place as being a great place to get a bargain. Kurt couldn’t fault the large man as the establishment did live to the primary criteria Kurt had set; it was quiet, empty if he was perfectly honest. The barkeeper must have been surprised to be receiving guests this early in the day as he jumped to his feet and pointed his wand at the door when the bell above the door rang as they entered.

“Can I help you?” the bearded man peered at them suspiciously, the sleep still evident on his aged yet vaguely familiar face.

“Hi,” Kurt stepped forward and extended a friendly hand, “I’m Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, I sent an owl with a request for reservations.”

“I thought that was a joke,” the man gaped at him but didn’t shake his hand, “never had a person make reservations before.”

Kurt shook his head as he withdrew his hand, “I never joke about reservations, it’s rude. Besides, I’m not known for being particularly funny.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” the man shook his head as he pointed to a large wooden table in the corner. Kurt gave an uneasy look as he sat down, “What might the problem be?”

Kurt knocked on the rough wood table top, “This table top hasn’t been sanded for the good part of a millennium, could we get a table cloth? I’m afraid I might get a splinter.”

“Really Kurt?” Harry and the man both gave him an unimpressed look but he did not break.

“Very well,” the man pointed his wand at the table and conjured a rust coloured tarp that Kurt wouldn’t have seen fit to lay on the ground let alone on the table but he did not wish to be fussy, “what will you be having?”

“I’ll have a butter beer,” Neville’s voice barely rose above a whisper.

“I’ll have the same,” Luna nodded.

Santana thought about it for a moment, “I’ll a glass of fino sherry.”

“I’ll have an oloroso sherry,” Dani smiled.

“Can I have a sparkling water with lemon slices on the side,” Kurt gave a small smile, “no ice.”

“I’ll just have a butter beer,” Harry gave a polite smile.

“That’s good,” the man nodded slowly, “but we have mead and we have firewhiskey.”

There was a short silence as they all waited for somebody else to break the silence, Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’ll have mead, and can I still get those lemon slices?”

“No lemon slices,” the man’s tone was absolute.

“I think six pints of meads will be fine,” Harry quelled the man’s irritation by placing an order he could actually fill.

“You better hope that mead is spiced because I will be very upset if I have to enjoy a sweet drink,” Kurt scolded Harry, “especially if there aren’t any lemon slices.”

“Trouble in paradise,” Neville teased.

“It’s hardly paradise when two members of the love quadrangle are missing,” Kurt crossed his arms and shook his head in disappointment, “Cedric would have let me insist on those lemon slices a little longer.”

“Yes, and when you had to resign to the reality of the situation, he would have complimented and consoled you,” Harry added, “I’m not Cedric. I’m the tough guy, I even have a scarred face and everything.”

“You think you’re tough?” Santana burst out in a violent fit, “There are toddlers tougher than you on my street.”

“That’s hurtful,” Harry gaped at Santana, “Got my face marked up like the less savoury part of town and you're just putting me down like that.”

“Maybe she doesn’t enjoy scar humour,” Luna suggested with a shrug, “Or maybe she just doesn’t think you're scary.”

“I think it might be because you have a twelve year old girl’s hairstyle,” Kurt mirrored Luna’s seriousness.

“I resent that,” Luna snapped, “I have never had hair like that.”

“More like a seventies lesbian,” Santana suggested.

Dani’s eyes shot wide open, “oh my gosh, I totally see it!”

“Like Ellen DeGeneres or Rosie O’Donnell,” Santana nodded, “Neither had a haircut this bad but they both did not short but not long.”

“Those are lesbians in now,” Dani stopped her.

“It’s the other side of the world,” Neville shrugged, “might as well be another decade, bottom line is that Harry looks like a lesbian.”

“We can’t all have Finn telling us which hairstyle looks sexiest on us,” Harry crossed his arms, “Mr ‘you look sexy with your hair pushes back.’”

“Have you asked Finn?” Luna quirked a brow, “Because I asked him and he said I was perfect the way I am.”

“I agree,” Kurt nodded, “how do you get the silver in your hair.”

“I think she was born with it,” Dani smiled.

“I think its Maybelline,” Santana added, they both giggled, “Oh, we tried it.”

“Charming,” Kurt eyed the glass that had been placed in front of him by the barkeep, it was dusty. He took deep breath and blew hard on the dust; as he did this the door flew, the thick layer of dust that lined the floor went flying out the door, and vanished just before settling the street outside, “much better.”

“I hate how good you are at magic,” Harry groaned.

“I blew my glass clean,” Kurt shrugged, “I didn’t do that, at least not intentionally if it was me.”

“When you say it was unintentional,” Neville paused to clear his throat, “is this like how burning Malfoy’s face was ‘unintentional’ or like how becoming a cold hearted bitch was unintentional.”

“Bad analogy,” Kurt shook his head, “both those things were intentional.”

“You swore the Draco thing was a mistake when Ron and I asked you to do it again,” Harry wagged his finger angrily.

“I lied,” Kurt lifted his glass halfway to his mouth but paused before drinking, “What exactly is this?”

“Tej.”

Kurt quirked a brow, “exactly being the operative word.”

“Ethiopian spiced mead,” the man slammed the Florentine vase he’d been pouring the cloudy amber liquid from, his tone was less than friendly, “Would you like me to list every ingredient as well?”

Kurt was a little frightened, he felt he might have over stepped in some way “No, I’m good. I’d hate to ruin the mystery.” He took a large gulp of the overly sweet drink, “It’s delicious.”

“Very good,” his friends chorused, each echoing a sentiment of satisfaction.

“Right,” the man nodded sternly as he returned to sleeping behind the bar.

“I’m a little afraid for my life,” Luna whispered.

“I feel you,” Kurt nodded, gulping down his drink, “I vote we finish this round, have a second to be polite and hope it isn’t poisoned, then we should leave a generous tip on our way out and hope he doesn’t murder us.”

Santana and Dani nodded their agreements, “I might even skip the second round.”

“And risk being rude?” Dani snapped back at Santana.

“We’ve overstayed our welcome,” Santana hissed back.

“I say we give him Kurt and carry on drinking this sweet nectar,” Neville suggested, “this might be the best thing to be inside me ever.”

“I’m with Neville,” Luna agreed, “on the nectar bit, not the ritual sacrificing of Kurt.”

“I say we get another round and discuss this matter like adults,” Harry said with a self-satisfied grin as he waved their patron back around for another round.

~0~

Kurt gave the door to Hagrid’s three sharp raps, the large man opened the door and smiled, “Oh Kurt, I was beginning to think I was going to have to send out a search party for you.”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Kurt threw his briefcase on the kitchen table and slumped in the large chair, “I’m usually never tardy but I’ve had a terrible morning, I’m not sure exactly what happened but the last thing I remember was having a second round at the Hogs Head because we didn’t want to be rude.”

“You made the mistake of having the mead,” Hagrid gave him a friendly pat on the back, “I’ll put on some tea and we can celebrate you surviving.”

“I’m almost certain I was being served death slathered in honey,” Kurt shook his head, “If it was alcohol, I’d be hungover but all I feel is regret and shame. I’m not exactly sure what I did to such an effect that I might feel so ashamed but it’s a lingering feeling.”

“Should have warned you against that mead,” Hagrid chuckled as he placed a cup of tea in front of Kurt, “I made the same mistake once too.”

Kurt drank his tea, he didn’t complain that it wasn’t chai and he didn’t ask for any lemon slices, “So, I went to the library to try and find some information on Blast-ended skrewts but there was nothing on the subject so I hope the little that I did manage to prepare on invertebrate magical creatures will suffice.”

Hagrid gave a great booming chuckle and leaned forward in his seat, “I have something special planned for your session and paper.”

Kurt’s eyes grew wide, “I didn’t prepare for something special.”

“You didn’t think you’d be doing the regular curriculum, did you?” Kurt gave a weak nod, “That’s much too broad for this type of set-up, you have to read it for your exam but you can’t be expected to cover all of it in one session. Drink your tea.”

“If you tell me now then I might be able to do some preparation before we begin with the lesson,” Kurt pleaded but Hagrid shook his head and smiled broadly. Kurt slumped in his seat, “It’s something lethal, isn’t it?”

“That would be telling,” Hagrid wagged a dismissive finger and crossed his arms, “drink your tea.”

“Fine,” Kurt took a large gulp of the bitter tea, Kurt fixed his leather cap in place, “Let’s do this, at least they’ll say I died beautiful.”

“You’re being far too dramatic,” Hagrid chuckled as he got to his feet, “Follow me then.”

Kurt grabbed his briefcase and wished he’d worn different shoes as he followed Hagrid down the wooden steps that led out the vegetable patch, “we’re going into the forbidden forest?” Hagrid nodded, “I sometimes wonder why they put forbidden in the name when one considers the number of times I’ve been in there.”

“I thought you knew everything,” a low, gravelly voice came from behind Kurt, bringing him up with a start.

Kurt turned on his heels and his sass came back as he crossed his arms, “Hipster Weasley, you and I both know that I am far too brilliant to waste my time on such a trivial matter.”

“Kurt,” Hagrid smiled, “You already know Charlie Weasley?”

“Yes, we met over the summer,” Kurt pursed his lips, “Why aren’t you in Romania? What have we done to deserve this?”

“Nothing babes,” Kurt smiled at the inappropriate yet completely condescending term of endearment.

Kurt tilted his head with equal condescent, “I have a boyfriend.”

“Would you prefer I called you butt face?”

“He’s taller than you are,” Kurt giggled, “I’m almost taller than you are and I’m only fourteen.”

“Whatever butt face,” Charlie crossed his arms, “my mother says I might still grow.”

“You’re what? Twenty-two?” Kurt cocked his hip as he used teasing the older Weasley as a distraction, “You’re done growing, you missed your window to achieve human height.”

“I’m twenty-one till December,” Charlie correct, “And I’m average height.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard somebody take such pride in being average,” Kurt gave a small giggle and gestured toward the forbidden forest, “after you.”

“Yes, of course,” Charlie huffed, leading Kurt and Hagrid into the forest.

“You know I met Charlie ten years ago when he was a first year,” Hagrid said in an effort to ease the tension.

“Has it only been ten years?” Charlie chuckled the ventured deeper into the woods, “feels like a lifetime ago that I got my Hogwarts letter.”

“You look like it’s been a lifetime,” Kurt teased.

“Do we have to bring him?” Charlie turned to Hagrid as he spoke.

“It’s his Care for Magical Creatures Lesson,” Hagrid explained as they climbed over exposed tree roots.

“If this is a visit to Aragog’s nest then can I pass?” Kurt smiled nervously, “because I’ve done that before and the conversation about the nineteen eighties and the bit about me as if I weren’t here aren’t sufficiently gripping for me to stay.”

“We’re almost there,” Charlie brushed him off, “Besides, Hogwarts was much cooler when I was here; Gryffindor won the quidditch cup every year I was seeker.”

“And I care why?” Kurt quirked a brow.

“Kurt’s in Slytherin,” Hagrid explained, “a transgression we’ve come to forgive him for.”

“Not that I was asking to be forgiven or even needed to be forgiven,” Kurt smirked at the large man.

“Well, Slytherin won the House cup every year I was at Hogwarts,” Charlie countered.

Kurt gave a condescending smile, “and that streak would still be ongoing were it not for my generosity.”

“What’d you mean?” Hagrid peered at him curiously.

“The one year we lost it was because Professor Dumbledore awarded last minute points to the people involved in the whole philosopher’s stone business,” Kurt pursed his lips, “didn’t you think it was odd that all my friends were involved but I wasn’t?” Hagrid’s eyes grew wide, “my father taught me that the best form of punishment is one where the punished isn’t aware that they’re being punished.”

“How exactly does that work?” Charlie challenged him whilst Hagrid was performing his best impression of a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth without a sound as he tried to make sense of what he’d just been told.

“I once demanded my father buy me oxfords with subtle broguing so that I might stand out from my peers, I didn’t do this politely,” Kurt explained, “so he got a list of the phone numbers of all the parents in my class and asked them to buy their kids brogued oxfords, I spent weeks questioning my genius until Finn let me in on the plot.”

“And what exactly were you punishing the Slytherins for?”

“All of Slytherin house thinks they are better than Neville Longbottom. They think their better than me but that’s based on prejudice, a prejudice that doesn’t extend to Neville,” Kurt smiled devilishly, “I thought it was only fitting that they suffer defeat at his hands, when Professor Dumbledore awarded those final points to Neville for being himself that’s exactly what happened.”

Charlie Chuckled, “And you’re supposed to be the personification of evil?”

Kurt shrugged, “I know a curse that can break every bone in your body.”

“That sounds scary,” Charlie agreed.

“Okay,” Kurt smiled, “show me the dragon.”

“How’d you know it was dragons?” Hagrid peered at him curiously, pulled from his previous stupor.

“You were really excited, I was a little afraid, and Charlie works with dragons,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’m assuming they’re here for the first task.”

“You are good,” Charlie nodded, clearly impressed.

“You should witness Hermione at work,” Kurt smirked, “she’s even better.”

“Well,” Charlie shrugged, “dragons.” The three of them stepped out into the clearing and Kurt took a deep steadying breath, there were four large dragons sleeping in cages, “we gave them a sleeping draft, only way we could have moved them.”

“You know Ron thinks you train dragons,” Kurt chuckled.

“I’ve told him too many times for an adult that dragons are untrainable.”

“I don’t know which is worse, Ron’s childish belief that his older brother can do the impossible as if you were some kind of superhero,” Kurt smirked, “or the fact that you consider Ron an adult.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the latter,” Charlie face palmed, “What can you tell me about dragons?”

“They age too slowly for domestication,” Kurt blurted out, “I should probably explain that, like elephants they take too long to reach maturity for their domestication to be worthwhile to humans. Dragons evolved from fire drakes which were the only extant line of drakes as ice drakes were hunted into extinction due to being extremely delicious.”

“You’re good.”

“One of my best students, he is,” Hagrid gave Kurt a proud pat on the back.

“A position I unfortunately have to share with Hermione Granger and Padma Petil,” Kurt shrugged, “there are currently twelve uses for dragon blood, Discovered by Albus Dumbledore, including oven cleaner and spot remover. Dragons never stop growing for the duration of their lives, as they age their fire increases in intensity.”

“Bet you haven’t been this close to a dragon since Norberta,” Charlie teased.

“Norberta?” Hagrid boomed.

“Turns out it was a girl,” Charlie chuckled, “Don’t worry, most people just assume. Sexing hatchlings is difficult”

“I won’t comment,” Kurt held back a giggle.

Charlie shook his head, “And you think Ron is immature.”

“I’m very mature for my age,” Kurt scolded.

“Whatever,” Charlie shrugged, not seeming very convinced, “now, closest you’ve been to a dragon since the hatchling; yay or nay?”

“Nay, I rode a dragon as part of my White Lotus training,” Kurt pursed his lips waiting to be challenged, “I could also tell you a thing or two about how to correctly sex a dragon.”

“It’s kind of my profession so I’ll pass on the advice of a fourteen year old,” Charlie shot him a condescending grin.

“Professor Dumbledore thinks my advice invaluable,” Kurt crossed his arms indignantly.

“That isn’t always a good thing.”

Kurt took a long steadying breath, “I think the one thing worse than a hard headed Weasley might just be a hard headed Weasley with a brain, I just realised how fortunate we are to have Ron as vacant as he is.”

“Did you just insult my entire family in one swell swoop?” Charlie seemed to be trying and failing to quell his anger.

“No, just you and Ronald,” Kurt smiled, “maybe Percy. I like the rest of your family, there’s just this defective gene that’s only present in you two or three.”

Charlie shrugged, “I’m not sure if I’m still offended.”

“And that’s why I’m your father’s favourite,” Kurt smiled and sinisterly rubbed his hands together, “Now, let’s tickle a sleeping dragon.”

“I’m almost certain that might be against the rules,” Hagrid chuckled, turning back to the pair from where he stood a few feet from one of the sleeping dragons, “it’s in the school motto and everything.”

“Strictly speaking, seeing as dragon breeding is illegal in the United Kingdom I doubt the school rules mad a provision for such an occurrence,” Kurt quirked an encouraging brow.

“I think if there’s going to be any dragon tickling then as the trained professional I think I should be the one doing said tickling,” Charlie had a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Kurt mirrored the smile.

Charlie stopped a few inches short of dragon with grass green scales, “is this one of those punishment without knowing you’re being punished things.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Kurt scoffed, “if it was, you’d be ruining it.”

Charlie backed away from the dragon, “Prove it.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, “avifors.” A small canary appeared and he plucked one of its feathers, Kurt stepped up to one of the sleeping dragons and gently caressed the scaly skin between its nostrils. Kurt kept his wand at the ready, not knowing what might come from this venture but curious none the less to find out what the outcome would be, for academic reasons as much as to have something to tell Professor Dumbledore at their next meeting. The dragon opened its mouth slightly and Kurt desisted his tickling, “ _Protego_. _Restinguo._ ”

The dragon exhaled black flames that rebounded off Kurt’s shielding charm in a plume of fiery wonder whilst Kurt’s extinguishing charm absorbed the excess heat, the green dragon then adjusted its position and carried on sleeping. Kurt turned to see Charlie clapping his hands, impressed, and Hagrid crossly staring at him.

“And what if had killed you?” Hagrid demanded.

“That would have been so awkward,” Charlie agreed.

“Awkward?” Hagrid’s voice boomed, “That would’ve been the second student to be injured in my class in as many years.”

“If they’re still letting Harry play quidditch after it’s tried to kill him every year then I’m sure your job would have been safe,” Kurt giggled, “Besides, nothing was going to happen to me. Do you think I would have gone anywhere near this thing without knowing with absolute certainty that I could handle whatever it threw my way?”

“Well,” Hagrid gave it a moment’s thought, “no.”

“Now, Kurt smiled broadly, “Who’s going to warn the champions about the dragons?”


	8. Chapter 8

Every fibre of Kurt’s being protested what he intended to do as he stepped through the senior Hufflepuff boys but when his gaze came to rest on Cedric, luxuriating in the warm autumn sun he knew his decision was for the best. Kurt cleared his throat and all the Hufflepuffs went dead quiet, they turned to stare at him as he’d conditioned them to do, “what are you doing?”

“I’m enjoying some free time,” Cedric sat up on the bench he’d previously been spread out on, “chatting with some friends.”

Kurt narrowed his gaze and quirked an unimpressed brow, “I can see that much, why do you insist on answering the question I ask as opposed to the question I mean?”

Kurt stood, waiting expectantly with hands on hips as Cedric tried to make sense of what had been asked of him- both explicitly and implicitly, “I feel that answering the question you mean might be a source of undue conflict?”  Kurt was not impressed that he was being answered in question form, “Look, I don’t know what the first task is going to be so I’m better off casting it aside for the time being because stressing about something I can’t do anything about would be fruitless.”

Kurt took a deep breath but stopped short as his line of vision fell on Anthony Rickett’ lapel, “What are you wearing?”

Kurt took a step closer to the hulking seventh year who was smirking haughtily, “robes.”

A grimace spread across Kurt’s face, “‘Potter stinks, Support Cedric Diggory- the real Hogwarts champion’? You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What’s-” Anthony moved to speak but Kurt raised a silencing finger.                                                                      

“Don’t speak, it’ll only make me angrier,” Kurt turned to Cedric, “So you’re letting your friends rip my friend a new one, classy.”

“I’ve asked them repeatedly to stop wearing them,” Cedric threw his hands up in surrender as he defended himself, “I’ve told them countless times that supporting me didn’t amount to the deformation of my opponents but they won’t listen.”

Kurt nodded his head in slow acknowledgement, his doubts were growing; he wasn’t sure how to go forward from here but he was spared the need to make a decision by the arrival of Harry Potter, “Cedric can I have a word?” Harry looked over the group and his gaze came to rest on Kurt, “Kurt? Have you-”

“No,” Kurt shook his head, unsure if that meant he wasn’t going to or if it meant not yet, “I was just about to but please, be my guest.” Kurt gestured to the group of seniors, “Another matter, in dire need of my attention, has come up.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded slowly and gestured for Cedric to follow, Kurt did the same.

“Now,” Kurt turned to the group of senior boys; who were, unsurprisingly, no longer sporting the defaming buttons, “you can tell me from whom you acquired these buttons or I can find out from Finn and have him poison all of you.”  Kurt gave saccharine smile, “All I have to do is give Finn his allowance and he’ll do anything for me, so what’s it going to be?”

“We got them from Heidi,” One of the fifth years confessed, Kurt enjoyed dealing with amateurs.

“Who said she got them from a Slytherin,” Another broke, a wicked grin spread across Kurt’s beautiful face.

“You idiots,” Anthony snapped, “Finn wouldn’t murder us, not even on Kurt’s command.”

Kurt smiled triumphantly, “I never said anything about murder, and I said he’d poison you but I also didn’t say he’d do it knowingly. There was so much wrong with that threat, I didn’t think it would work but I guess my brilliance escapes even me sometimes.”

“There’s is no need to gloat,” Malcolm Fleece, a spindly seventh year prefect, counselled.

Kurt shook his head, “my dear, there is always a need to gloat.”

Anthony bowed his head, “You are the devil.”

“I think what you mean to say is ‘good one devil,’” Kurt chuckled.

“Good one devil,” Cedric chuckled as swung his around Kurt’s neck, he kissed Kurt on the cheek.

“I take it you and Harry had a merry chat,” Kurt untangled himself from his boyfriend’s limbs, “Give it some thought and come up with an idea, I have to go make the boy who lived cry but I’ll review and probably reject your plan later this evening.” Kurt kissed Cedric on the cheek and took off in a brisk walk in the same direction as Harry, “Harry, wait up.”

“Kurt,” Harry seemed taken by surprise, “I thought you would be with Cedric.”

“At least you’re thinking, it’s a step in the right direction,” Kurt smiled as he tussled his friend’s hair, “I’d like to speak to you, again.”

Harry looked around him nervously, “I told him not to come just like you told me to.”

“I don’t recall that being my instruction,” Kurt crossed his arms, “I remember instructing you to convince him not to abandon his post.”

“I tried,” Harry swore, “He seemed convinced when I spoke to him on the floo this morning.”

Kurt was cross at Harry’s naïveté, “it didn’t raise a brow that while living with a pair of muggles he was able to contact you via the floo network?” Kurt released a disappointed breath, “I thought you’d started thinking, he stole away from the farm in the dead of night. He must have had a connected fireplace in mind when he left the farm if he contacted you this morning.”

“Kurt, I tried my best,” Harry pleaded, “I told him it would be dangerous.”

“Never send a Gryffindor to do a Slytherin’s job,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “Telling a Gryffindor that something would be dangerous is the worst possible thing you could do- believe me, I’ve tried multiple times. What you should have told him that everything was fine and that all was hunky dory. Telling him it was dangerous was telling him that this was an opportunity for him to show the world just how brave he is, like an idiot he’s going to come straight into the thick of it.” Kurt took a deep breath, “The ministry is going to be everywhere because they can’t afford to have another incident at a high profile international event like at the quidditch world cup. When you speak to Sirius tell him I’m done.”

“You’re done,” Harry’s eyes grew wide, “you can’t be done.”

“I’m done,” Kurt hung up his hands in defeat, “I sacrificed my time turner, I broke the law by exposing muggles to magic and I turned my grandparents into criminals who harboured a fugitive; I have stuck my neck out far enough for somebody who is clearly not interested in exercising a little self-preservation and I am done.” Kurt shook his head, “when he gets himself caught, I am now an accomplice to his escape and as such I can be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law; so can my grandparents. I will not go down for somebody else’s reckless behaviour, not when I’ve guarded my actions so well, so-”

“You’re just going to slither back into your hole?” Harry sneered.

“An accurate metaphor,” Kurt nodded, “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“You told him he could count on you,” Harry scolded.

“When I thought I was dealing with a sane person,” Kurt shouted right back, “I expected that I would be able to count on him to not be self-sacrificing idiot.”

“So you’re going to betray him because you don’t understand his actions,” Harry chided Kurt with a patronising chuckle.

“No,” Kurt shook his head, “You don’t get to climb on your high horse and judge me as if I am an emotionally inept cretin, I will not have it. I understand completely what Sirius means to do but I’m afraid intention does not translate well into action in this situation.”

“Kurt,” Harry was quiet, he calming down and seemed to be thinking about what had just transpired between them. When Harry spoke his voice was barely above a whisper, “he’s my dad’s best friend and the closest thing I have to family.”

“You’ve known that he exists for a little over a year and you’ve known him for all of five months; you wanted to kill him before that,” Kurt took a deep breath and a step back, “I’m very disappointed that you think the fact that he and your dad used to be tight means that your very young relationship supersedes what you have with Hermione, Neville, Luna, myself, Finn and even Ron when his head isn’t up his own arse.”

“It’s not like that,” Harry reached out to Kurt but he pulled away, “it’s not a competition, it’s not even the same thing. Look at you, you have Cedric.”

“Look around you,” Kurt gestured at the deserted corridor, “Where is Cedric? I’m standing here with you about to ask you how you plan on surviving this thing maybe at the expense of Cedric’s victory, I wouldn’t have to fight Cedric to listen to me and I don’t break the law for Cedric but here I am.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Harry snapped.

“You called him the closest thing you have to family,” Kurt countered, “Ron, Finn and I both opened our homes to you, every single last one of us loves you dearly and look out for your best interest, and we support you even when you’re being foolish- we might not do it blindly but we do it. That’s what family means to me, that’s what my family is.” Kurt let out a defeated sigh, “not blood, not titles, not fancy broomsticks for Christmas and not an indecipherable web of connections. I don’t want you to say anything, I don’t want you to feel anything, I just want you to know that in my books and in the books of the Weasleys and in the books of Neville, Luna, Hermione and Hagrid- we are family; we’re always here for you.”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” Harry mumbled.

Kurt smiled, “At least you’re thinking, it’s a step in the right direction.”

Harry giggled, “That was intense.”

“I thought I was going to have to beat that into you,” Kurt shrugged, “So, what do you have planned for your dragon?”

“Is this the part where you fight me to listen to you?”

“Well of course,” Kurt smiled, “apparently you accept family flaws and all.”

“Well, we’re opening with flaws,” Harry stepped out of Kurt’s reach, “I have nothing.”

Kurt shook his head, “This is why I’m supporting Fleur Delacour.”

“Justifiably so,” Harry nodded slowly, “you have any suggestions?”

“That would be cheating,” Kurt pointed out, “but I wouldn’t advise having spellcasting as part of your master plan.”

“Why is that?” Harry smiled, happy for the help.

“Dragon’s fall into a group of species that is impervious to most magic,” Kurt explained, “it is essential that you have a special kind of wand to be able to use spells on them.”

“What kind of wand?”

“Dragon heartstring.”

“Like Viktor Krum,” Harry groaned.

“That’s why Charlie got a new wand when he started working in Romania and Ron subsequently inherited his,” Kurt explained, “his new wand is dragon heartstring. Some of the more untraditional wand cores work on dragons as well.”

“What about Fleur’s wand?” Harry’s eyes had grown wide, “it has vela hair in it.”

“Vela hair?” Kurt raised a brow in astonishment, “that must have cost her an arm and a leg, vela hair is near impossible to ethically acquire.”

“Why is that?”

“When you pluck even a single hair from a vela’s head they die,” Kurt shook her head, “the hair of a dead vela makes terrible wands so you essentially have to kill to get a good vela hair wand, that’s why their almost exclusively found on the black market.”

Harry’s grew wider than Kurt thought possible and his jaw went slack, “So Fleur killed her grandmother to make a wand?”

“Her grandmother might have been dying anyway,” Kurt shrugged, “an assisted suicide of sorts.”

“So both Fleur and Viktor have an automatic advantage over me and Cedric?”

“Not necessarily Fleur,” Kurt shook his head, “it would depend on her grandmother’s temperament, how mellow her grandmother had been will inform how well her wand works.”

“I’m so screwed,” Harry shook his head.

“Not necessarily,” Kurt shrugged, buffing his nails against his robes.

“What do you mean?”

“Phoenix tail feather flirts on the boundary of working,” Kurt smiled, “your wand worked on the basilisk, sure it was in the hands of a much more skilled wizard but it worked.”

Harry’s face lit up, “So I could win this thing.”

“Don’t worry about winning. Focus on surviving,” Kurt shook his head and laid an assuring hand on his friend’s shoulder, “it’s not like you’re used to success.”

~0~

“Kurt,” Fred smiled as he swung his arm over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Hermione,” George grinned as he did the same with Kurt.

“Care to place a bet?” they chorused merrily.

“I’ll pass,” Hermione shook her head, “Now, unhand me. You’re scaring away potential suitors.”

“I raised her so well,” Kurt wiped away fake tears with George’s sleeve, “I’d like to place a bet.”

The twins high fived, “How much?”

“What’s your maximum pay out?” Kurt quirked a brow as he pulled out his purse, “because I’m going to win.”

“Depends,” George smiled.

“On whether you do a ladder bet,” Fred explained.

“Or a single bet.”

“Ladder is riskier.”

“Kurt, you can’t be serious,” Hermione protested, “what if you lose?”

“I’ll write home and my dad will beat them to a bloody pulp,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’ll take a ladder.”

“Somebody’s feeling bold,” George teased.

“I’m trying new things,” Kurt smiled.

“You should try being nice,” Fred chuckled.

“It’s terrible,” George fake shuddered.

“I am nice,” Kurt crossed his arms defensively.

Hermione shot him a sideways glance, her disbelief evident, “you told Harry he wasn’t used to success.”

“It’s not like he has a long history of overachieving,” Kurt corrected, “I simply reminded him to prioritise.”

“So,” Fred interjected.

“You were placing a bet,” George tapped his watch impatiently.

“We don’t have all day.”

“Plenty of First years we need to take advantage of.”

“Do you guys have a licence for this?” Kurt eyed them suspiciously.

“Don’t ask too many questions,” George growled.

“But we’re with the wizarding mafia,” Fred continued.

“It sometimes makes me so sad when I realise that this is my life,” Kurt’s shoulders slumped, “my ladder has Fleur Delacour in first, followed by Viktor Krum, then Cedric, and finally- by the skin on his teeth and the hair on his nuts- Harry Potter.”

“Ten Galleons,” George held out his hand to receive the coins while George wrote him a slip.

“Is Kurt spelled ‘L-O-S-E-R’?” Fred teased.

Kurt accepted his slip, “You managed it well enough, your spelling is improving.”

“We told you we got OWLs in Charms,” they chorused proudly.

Hermione hooked her arm with Kurt’s and dragged him away before the twins could suck him back into conversation, “you just bet against your boyfriend.”

“And Harry,” Kurt added, “call it insider trading but I know that they’re both going down.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide, “Did you just cheat Fred and George?”

“No,” Kurt smiled deviously, “they know very well that I know everything.”

“And what do you know of Viktor and Fleur?” Hermione demanded.

Kurt smirked “Call it a hunch but I think Fleur Delacour is going to outperform Viktor Krum.”

“And what of Harry and Cedric?”

“That was just a guess of who’d die sooner based on their strategies,” Kurt shrugged.

Hermione shook her head as she led him off the trail to the arena, “you’re something else.”

Kurt preened at the praise, “The word you’re looking for is exceptional.”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “it really isn’t.”

“Hope none of you are naked,” Kurt announced their presence as he threw the flap of the champions tent open.

“Excuse my friend,” Hermione glared at him, “he likes to behave like he was raised by animals.”

“I was raised with Finn,” Kurt countered, “it’s basically the same thing.”

“The worst part is that you aren’t pretending to be like this,” Harry teased, “you’re just generally this terrible, and we’ve come to accept it.”

“Hey,” Kurt scolded, “we’re the ones giving the pep talk here. Hermione, take the wheel.”

“Right,” Hermione nodded, “Cedric, you should listen as well, Kurt doesn’t believe in pep so this as close as you will get to any encouragement from him.”

“I don’t think it would help,” Kurt shook his head, Cedric slung an arm over his shoulder, “Cedric’s strategy depends on the dragon having Finn’s personality.”

“And a fine personality that would be,” Cedric nodded curtly.

“Make all the girl dragons go,” Kurt ended the sentence with a grand bellow of flames, “some of the boy ones too.”

“That’ll never stop being hot,” Cedric smile, brushing his nose against Kurt’s.

“That’s kind of how fire works,” Kurt teased.

“Okay,” Hermione cleared her throat, “the joint offices of Hermione Jean Granger and Kurt Elizabeth Hummel would like to share their intuition that the key to surviving this is to stay focused and not to allow yourself to be intimidated by the dragon.”

“We only have to battle it after all,” Harry quipped.

“What I mean is don’t let it get to you, don’t panic,” Hermione hugged Harry tightly, “and most of all don’t forget that you have a strategy, see it through.”

Kurt raised an interjectory finger, “turns out I have some pep inside me after all; don’t try to show off, you will die.”

Hermione shook her head grimly, “that was not pep, there is definitely something inside you but it is not pep.”

“Pragmatism,” Cedric nodded in time with Hermione.

Kurt shook his head, “either way, I’m right. If you try to show off as opposed to doing what you’re supposed to do as efficiently as possible then things will go wrong.”

Cedric nodded his agreement, all eyes turned to Harry who tried to look everywhere but at Kurt and Hermione. It was Hermione who put an end to his evasiveness when she grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look her in the eye, “Don’t try anything fancy out there.”

“Not even a little fancy,” Harry smirked.

“Good,” Hermione hugged him tightly, Cedric grabbed Kurt and pushed him into the hug, effectively turning it into a group hug.

“So much touching,” Kurt groaned.

“You know I love me a hug,” Cedric mused as he pulled Kurt back round into a kiss.

“Young love!” Exclaimed Rita Skeeter with a bright flash, she had a photograph of Harry and Hermione hugging with Cedric and Kurt in the background kissing. Rita Skeeter entered with her photographer in tow and her quick quotes quill floating behind her, taking down notes of all her fabrications, “Where is everyone?”

“What are we?” Cedric quirked a brow, “chopped liver?”

“I’ve taught him so well,” Kurt smiled.

“They are in their little dressing rooms,” Harry explained pointing at the partitioned areas, “I don’t think you should be here and I doubt you should be opening those.”

Rita Skeeter opened the first to reveal Fleur in a state of deep meditation, levitating over her bed in an perfect Buddha sitting position with her wand floating in front of her, “Boring.”

Fleur was disrupted by Rita Skeeter’s jeer and fell back on the bed and bounced onto the ground with a thud, Kurt stifled a giggle as Cedric went to go help her out. Viktor Krum seemed to have heard the disruption created by Rita Skeeter’s presence and came out of his dressing room looking less than impressed, “You have no business here, this tent is for champions.” He seemed to glance around and notice that it evidently wasn’t just for champions, “and friends of champions. Only.”

“Well, alright,” Rita Skeeter smirked, “I got what I came here for.”

“Thank you for that,” Kurt gave the Durmstrang champion a polite smile, “she is a menace.”

“If she prints anymore lies about us we’re filing a lawsuit for deformation of character,” Hermione huffed, angrily crossing her arms, “I’ve had enough of people asking me if Harry really cries himself to sleep and how long we’ve been dating when neither is true.” She stopped and turned to Harry with a menacing grin, “At least I assume you don’t cry yourself to sleep.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “Not even after Lisa Turpin dumped me.”

There was a round of laughter, Kurt clapped Harry on the shoulder, “if it makes you feel any better, her hair colour comes from a bottle.”

“I heard it was her hair,” Cedric countered.

“That would be Neville’s doing,” Hermione chuckled, “he swears she’s bald.”

“Poor wording on my part might partially be to blame,” Kurt admitted, “I might have led Neville to believe that her hair came from a bottle.”

“You English are a very strange people,” Fleur eyed them suspiciously and Viktor nodded, “your hair coming from bottles.”

“Kurt is actually the strange one,” Hermione explained, “and he’s predominantly of French ancestry.”

“Really,” Fleur’s face lit up, “where about are you from?”

“Alsace-Lorraine,” Kurt smiled, “I’m actually more German than French.”

“He is correct,” Fleur let out a disappointed sigh.

“ _But I do still speak French exceptionally well_ ,” Kurt smiled in an effort to cheer her up.

“ _I thought you did everything exceptionally well_ ,” Cedric teased.

“Champions, gather round-” Professor Dumbledore stopped suddenly where he’d been waving his arms welcomingly, Madame Maxime and Don Karkaroff at his flanks looked less than impressed, whilst Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch and Percy Weasley looked on, “Oh look, you’re already gathered.” Professor Dumbledore seemed to fiddle with the chair that cinched his beard halfway down its great length almost dejectedly, “I had a thing where I was going ring my little bells to get your attention but never mind.”

Madame Maxime and Don Karkaroff exchanged a confused look, then the Beauxbatons headmistress rolled her eyes, she let out a defeated sigh, “Ring the bells.”

“I knew you’d let me,” Professor Dumbledore grinned, he gently shook the bells; each bell was no bigger than two pence piece but they chimed the exact sequence of the Oxford University church bells, matching their volume as well.

“Regret it immediately,” Madame Maxine huffed with a flick of her dark hair and a scowled on her beautiful face. Don Karkaroff simply chuckled, entertained by Professor Dumbledore’s eccentric behaviour and how it peeved Madame Maxime.

“Bartemius,” Professor Dumbledore grinned.

“Listen closely champions,” Mr Crouch stepped forward and held out a moleskin pouch, “in this bag I have four miniature dragons that are representations of four real dragons. Each of these dragons has been given a golden egg to protect, your task is to retrieve that egg.”

“You can do this,” Hermione assured Harry.

“Ms Granger,” Professor Dumbledore raised a brow as Hermione had drawn all eyes to her by speaking out of turn, “Whatever are you doing here?”

“Yes, Ms Granger,” Kurt scolded, “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Hermione stuttered uncharacteristically, “uhm, you see…”

“Don’t worry about this one Professor Dumbledore,” Kurt assured the headmaster, “I’ll escort her out and see that she is appropriately punished.”

“Thank you Mr Hummel,” Professor Dumbledore nodded and Kurt pushed a flabbergasted Hermione toward the exit, “wait a minute.”

“Not a minute to be wasted,” Kurt raised a dismissive hand.

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion, “What just happened?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt chuckled.

“Why didn’t you get asked what you were doing there?”

Kurt shrugged, “I just pretended like I belonged there.”

“That’s absolute rubbish,” Hermione scoffed as they moseyed over to the arena.

“I think it might even be sexism,” Kurt teased, “We should file a lawsuit.”

Hermione quirked a challenging brow, “we should but will we?”

“I heard Madam Pince just got a fresh delivery of books,” Kurt smirked, “I’m sure we’ll just get distracted.”

“Kurt! Kurt! Kurt! Hermione too I guess,” they turned to see Finn waving them over excitedly and patting a pair of seats beside him.

“You only saved two seats,” Kurt shook his head, “what if Neville and Luna were with us?”

“We’re already seated,” Luna’s lilted voice cut through the humming around them.

“Luna’s reading my palm,” Neville smiled, stifling a giggle as Luna ran her fingers over his palm.

“I’m really not,” Luna giggled, “unless your palm’s written in braille, my fingers would be a hindrance if I were using them like this.”

“Besides,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “Luna won’t be learning palm reading till next year.”

Kurt flicked Finn’s ear, “And that’s why she’s never ‘Hermione too I guess’!”

“Sorry,” Finn brought his hands up to defend himself after the incident, “but I really wanted to talk to you.”

“What have you brought me,” Kurt quirked a brow.

“Seeing as I’d already given you my allowance this month,” Finn grinned broadly, “I thought I’d step my game up.”

Kurt clutched his chest and took a deep steadying breath, “tell me you didn’t.”

“I did,” Finn grinned broadly as he produced a picnic basket, “and Professor Flitwick enchanted the basket to keep everything perfectly fresh and ready to eat.”

“What have you done to Kurt?” Neville demanded.

Hermione gave a knowing smirk, “he brought him McDonalds.”

“And my mom’s chocolate genoise cake,” Finn wiggled a seductive brow.

Hermione grabbed onto Neville and Kurt’s shoulders to steady herself before whispering, “what do you want?”

“I need advice,” Finn grinned, “I want Padma Petil and she wants me, how do I make it happen.”

“Show us the payment,” Hermione attempted to school her features but her desire was evident.

Finn opened the basket slightly and showed them their treasures, “think of this as a deposit, the rewards will be plenty after I’ve succeeded in wooing the prettiest girl in school.”

“We can’t help you get Angelina Johnson but we can get you Padma Petil,” Kurt joked.

“What you’re going to have to do is be perfectly honest with her…

***

Finn cautiously stepped up to the group of fourth year girls as they were leaving the arena, the first task had concluded, “Hi, ladies. Might I have a word with Padma?”

Her friends giggled and allowed the pair some privacy, Padma smiled at him and his breath caught, “How can I help you Finn?”

_Compliment her, don’t make it superficial but also don’t compliment her personality; most importantly, make sure it’s genuine and don’t be afraid to be bold._

“You have very emotive eyes,” Finn stumbled over his words, he felt like he was messing up, “they’re breath-taking and so beautiful.”

Padma gave a shy smile, “thank you.”

_Be direct, don’t take too long to get down to what you want to say to her or else you’ll put your foot in your mouth._

“I really like you,” Finn admitted, he let out a sigh of relief, “I’ve really liked you for a while now and I know that I might seem like the kind of guy who can just tell a girl how he feels about her but I’m really not.”

_Give her an opportunity to speak, this is a two way street; there are two people’s emotions involved and both must be considered equally._

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Padma’s voice was gentle, “not that you can’t talk to girls, I really wish you could and had spoken to me sooner about how you feel.”

Finn’s face fell and his shoulders fell, “Are you not available? A girl as amazing as you must have her pick of suitors, I should have brought a gift so I’d stand.”

_Don’t make assumptions, listen to what you’re being told. Assuming that you’re being rejected is almost as dangerous as assuming that she’s interested._

Padma chuckled, “as a matter of fact a gift would have been lovely, but no I’m not taken. If you’d asked me earlier then we would have had more time together.” Padma took a deep breath, “I like you too, very much.”

_Don’t make her wait too long between this declaration and the first date, she probably wants to kiss you but wants to wait till after the first date. Make plans for that week, something that isn’t too imposing and won’t put too much pressure on itself to succeed._

“How would you like to have breakfast with me this Saturday?” Finn grinned.

“This Saturday?” Padma seemed to be surprised, “I don’t believe there will be a Hogsmead visit this weekend.”

“Not in Hogsmead,” her face fell slightly, “just the two of us, in the astronomy tower with a morning view of the rolling hills of Scotland. I’ll bring the picnic, all you have to bring is that wit to keep me on my toes.”

“That sounds lovely,” Padma smiled, “it’s a date.”

***

“…And that’s how you’ll get Padma Petil to go on a date with you,” Kurt smiled, “now give me my McDonalds, the first task is about to begin.”

“Can’t we just skip ahead to the cake?” Hermione groaned.

“Don’t be absurd,” Kurt scolded as he passed each a burger, “I almost never get to eat McDonalds.”

Hermione tilted her head condescendingly, “Because it’s horse meat?”

“High salt content,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “my dad isn’t allowed any.” Kurt took a large bite of his burger and savoured it, “if this is horse meat then buda bup buh buh… I'm lovin’ it.”

“Go home, you're drunk,” Neville shook his head in disappointment, “this is average at best.”

“That’s the ‘guilty’ part of my guilty pleasure,” Kurt admitted, “now quiet, Cedric’s on.”

“Oh yes,” Luna sounded distant, “wouldn’t want to miss that.”

“Eat your horse meat and be quiet,” Finn growled, “my friend’s about to prove Kurt wrong about my personality.”

“And the sun shall fall and be feasted upon by fowls,” Neville chuckled, stuffing a hand full of chips into his mouth, “these chips are good.”

“I hear they don’t decompose,” Hermione sniped.

“They’re never around long enough for anybody to be absolutely sure,” Kurt countered, “Now quiet, Cedric is about to prove that Kurt is always right.”

“Talking about yourself in the third person is so wrong on so many levels,” Luna shook her head solemnly.

Cedric stepped into the arena and there was loud cheering from the spectators’ stands, Cedric smiled and waved at the crowd. On the other end of the rugged rocky terrain of the arena was a dragon with a long, angular body with silver blue scales; it crawled slowly toward Cedric with a grace Kurt never expected from such a large creature, grabbing protruding rocks with large claws that ended in jagged talons. Cedric stood firm with his wand at the ready, the dragon blew a plume of blue flames in his direction and deflected it with a wave of his wand. The dragon moved to its left, surprised by Cedric’s counter attack, it watched him as if trying to gage his intentions; her tail stayed curled around her nest of eggs and her position aggressively defensive. Cedric stared the dragon down, keeping her gaze fixed on his eyes as he conjured flock of medium sized bird that flew off in one direction and the dragon’s gaze followed the birds and Cedric moved closer, stealthily. The dragon burned the birds out of existence just as easily as Cedric had conjured them, she turned her attention back to Cedric but could not find him as he’d hidden behind a rock.

From his hiding spot behind the rock, Cedric transfigured a boulder into a large grey dog that too closely resembled the animagus form of Sirius Black for Kurt’s comfort. Kurt took pause from the performance to scan the stands, the last time Sirius had been in the vicinity of Hogwarts he had taken it upon himself to take in a quidditch match and Kurt wondered if Sirius hadn’t seen himself deserving of attending the first task. Kurt’s wondering was halted by loud cheering, Cedric stood with the golden egg in hand but no sooner had the celebration of Cedric’s victory begun that the dragon turned and blew a plume of blue flames in his direction. Cedric’s robes were engulfed in flames and half his hair was gone.

“Not his hair, not his beautiful hair,” Kurt exclaimed loudly, “Tuck and roll, you idiot.”

Cedric did as instructed, rolling away from the nest whilst clutching the golden egg. The dragon pursued him, once Cedric had extinguished himself he turned to the dragon. The dragon breathed blue flames in Cedric’s direction and he pointed his wand at flames, the flames seemed to change direction mid-stream bringing confusion not just to the spectators but to the dragon as well as she was engulfed by her own flames. The dragon moved toward Cedric once more but he flicked his wand once more and she was thrown back by the same force that had reversed the stream of flames. Cedric used this as an opportunity to roll out of the arena, completing the first task.

Kurt leaned close to whisper in Finn’s ear, “what do we say?”

“Good one devil,” Finn rolled his eyes.

“The fowls are going to be very disappointed,” Luna giggled, “they were looking forward to feasting on the sun.”

“Your boyfriend ruined a perfect opportunity to pick up new spells by using all his spells nonverbally,” Neville groaned, “now I’ll never know grown up magic.”

“You could read a book,” Hermione teased, “I, on the other hand, have read quite a few books and have yet to come across that final spell. You know the one that saved Cedric’s life.”

Kurt smiled, “it came from where all good things come from.”

“Finland,” Neville suggested.

“What?” Kurt peered at Neville curiously, “No, I meant me.”

“Wait,” Hermione raised a silencing finger, “I want to hear why Neville thinks all good things come from Finland.”

“Disclaimer, it might be named after me,” Finn grinned as he produced the Tupperware filled with chocolate cake, “but I didn’t come from there.”

Kurt turned to Finn in disbelief, “the country is sixty-two years older than you and the territory was named that an additional hundred and eight years before that, I’m not sure what it was called when it was part of Sweden.”

Finn gaped at him, “Do you enjoy destroying happiness?”

“It passes the time,” Kurt giggled.

“I think you’re just jealous that you don’t have a country named after you,” Finn stuck out his tongue.

“Not yet at least,” Kurt smirked, “When I’m president of the world I will recreate the earth in my image; Kurtistan, Kurtland, United States of Kurt, Kurtburg, the works.”

“On another person this would be really morbid,” Luna giggled playfully, “but it really works on you.”

“Thank you darling,” Kurt leaned over Hermione and kissed Luna on the cheek.

“Ah, great,” Hermione groaned, “Fleur Delacour is about to go on and we haven’t found out what makes Finland so great or what mysticism you’ve taught to Cedric Diggory.”

“We’ll resume the conversation after a message from our sponsors,” Finn chuckled.

“Wait,” Hermione held her hands up as if hoping to stop time, “I need a cake fork, the last time I attacked this cake with my hands and I’m trying to be a better person.”

“But you’re already the best,” Neville smiled shyly.

Kurt scowled, “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“You’re the best’s best friend,” Hermione patted the top of his head condescendingly.

“Watch the hair,” Kurt ducked.

“Fleur has already started,” Finn scolded, “that’s just a friendly reminder from the best’s best friend’s brother.”

Kurt turned his attention to the arena, Fleur was squared up with the stout dragon, with brown scales with green flecks. Fleur’s dragon didn’t have the same aggressive demeanour as the one that Cedric had faced, she danced around her nest; she kept a manicured claw on either side of her nest. The dragon was blowing narrow jets of blood red flames at Fleur and she was twirling her wand in such a way that the flames were dissipating before they could make contact. Fleur flicked her wand effortlessly mid-twirl and switched spells at lightning speed, the dragon suddenly fell into a deep slumber. Fleur moved quickly and retrieved her golden egg, as she was skipping back to the arena exit she stopped to curtsy to the audience. The sleeping dragon snored so loudly and during its exhale a large plume of blood red flames blew across the arena and grazed Fleur’s skirt.

“ _Oh no_ ,” she exclaimed, “ _this skirt is Yves Saint Laurent!_ ”

She ran into the tunnel in a panic and completed the first task in less than half the time it had taken Cedric, “That’s why I think she’s going to be first.”

“Because she caught on fire?” Hermione raised a quizzical brow, “barely the act of a champion.”

“No,” Kurt smirked, “because she ran over the finish line before putting herself out.”

“Her determination is something to be commended,” Hermione relented.

“All whilst wearing Yves Saint Laurent,” Kurt smirked.

“Enough about how amazing Fleur Delacour is,” Luna turned to Neville, “I’ve been waiting patiently to hear about Finland.”

“You know Christopher Lee fought for Finland during the Winter War,” Kurt smiled.

Hermione quirked a brow, “That guy from that vampire movie?”

“The guy who like invented vampire movies,” Finn countered, “he also played that French painter Kurt loves in _Moulin Rouge_.”

“Georges Seurat,” Kurt smiled.

Hermione snapped her fingers, “we’re not missing out again. Neville, dish before the next champion comes out.”

“My Gran and Uncle Algie took me on this epic camping trip there the summer before first year,” Neville shrugged, “it was in Oulanka National Park just after they expanded it, so much green.”

“You were like ten,” Finn groaned, “our parents said we had to be fifteen before we got to go.”

Kurt shook his head, “I told you before, I’m not going camping no matter how many drugs there will be.”

“What is wrong with your family?” Neville gaped, “I was talking about foliage.”

“We’re talking about foliage too,” Kurt and Finn exchanged a look, “just of a different kind.”

“My dad was in his twenties at the height of the whole hippie movement,” Kurt explained, “he’s calmed down considerably.”

“Losing his hair changed him,” Finn shook his head solemnly. Finn clapped his hands excitedly, “oh, Viktor Krum is on; he’s so yum.”

“Amen to that,” was chorused by the group.

Viktor Krum stood at one end of the arena, broad and rather cross with the world. A dragon with scarlet scales and a crown of golden horns stood with clouds of smoke rising from her snout. Neither advanced nor did either advance but they just stood on opposite ends of the arena with the dragon scraping her hind feet, her claws making and awful scraping sound on the stone floor of the arena. Viktor raised his wand and the dragon growled cautiously, he swished his wand and the dragon breathed a precautionary plume of orange flames. The dragon flailed its head from side to side as its eyes began to swell shut, Viktor took the momentary confusion as an opportunity to move.

Ronald had once described Victor Krum as being like a bird in the sky, this translated to his movement on the ground; the seeker moved on the ground as if it were not his natural element. He managed to retrieve his golden egg, while making it over the finish line, the carnage he left behind him was less than desirable. The dragon, in a confused state induced by Viktor’s conjunctivitis curse, had progressed from flailing to thrashing to wild convulsion; in the process she had crushed her nest, her eggs still inside. The dragon, without seeing what she’d done, seemed to know instantly and let loose a hair splitting and heart breaking wail; the solemn silence that befell the spectators was filled by nothing but the she dragon’s sadness as she cried out for her loss.

“This is kind of morbid,” Finn broke the silence.

“Your face is kind of morbid,” Neville didn’t look away from where the dragon was being led away from the sight of the catastrophe.

“Viktor Krum must simply feel awful,” Kurt had his hand clutching his chest dramatically whilst he shook his head solemnly.

“You know in the wild dragons are known to stomp hatchlings that they don’t think will survive,” Luna shrugged, “they can only support two hatchlings per clutch. They’ll get her some eggs from some of the other dragons of her species and she won’t know the difference.”

“Oh,” the group chorused, unsure what to make of what they were being told.

There was another short silence, Kurt cleared his throat, “who wants to hear about the legumina charm… is it a charm? Is it a spell? I haven’t decided.”

“I’m game,” Luna smiled.

“I’m not sure what that is but sounds schooly,” Finn shook his head, “I’m going to bow out.”

“It’s the spell that Cedric used to take down his dragon,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’m bowing back in,” Finn grinned widely.

“It creates a transverse wave isolated to the y-z plane projected by you wand,” Kurt smiled, “it works particularly well on fire and most projectile spells, it also has all the qualities of a knockback jinx. Jinx, that fits perfectly, Legumina jinx.”

Hermione quirked an impressed brow, “A Kurt Hummel original?” Kurt pursed his lips in reply, “it’s about damn time.”

“This is what submitting a thesis must feel like,” Kurt hugged Hermione excitedly, “finally your own work after all those dissertations on the work of others.”

“You’re a bigger loser than I thought you were,” she chuckled.

“Hey,” Neville snapped, “Kurt is my cool friend, you can’t say things like that about him.”

“I’m hurt,” Finn crossed his arms, “how is Kurt your cool friend? Does he ever let you feel his boobs? Did he teach you to French?”

“Kurt smokes, he drinks, he’s smart, he’s smoking, he has a smoking boyfriend and everyone is jealous of him for some reason or the other,” Hermione explained, “how does anyone compete?”

“I let him feel my boobs, I let him feel your boobs,” Finn exclaimed, “doesn’t that count for anything?”

“You’re countering my perfection with boobs?” Kurt scoffed, “boobs don’t even make sense, they are baby feeders yet men find them attractive. Where is the logic in that?”

“Sometimes you’re just so gay,” Hermione shook her head.

“I asked Santana the same thing,” Luna interjected, “apparently they just are, I’m almost certain it was the first time something made more sense to Ginny than it did to me.”

“Probably because you know more about obscure, and disputable, magic than most people,” Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper for the parenthesis, “it’s no wonder you can make sense of almost anything.”

“It’s simple really,” Luna smiled, “something doesn’t have to have proof or evidence to exist, if it means something to you then it’s real for you.”

“I hope you didn’t misunderstand me,” Hermione smiled at the girl beside her, “I didn’t mean any malice by what I said, I meant it as a compliment.”

“That’s how it was received,” Luna assured her.

“I get what Luna means,” Kurt nodded slowly as he processed his understanding, “it’s like how ancient civilisations used to think that you had demons in your head when you had a headache. The ancient Greeks rationalised their encounters with witches and wizards by thinking they’d encountered Gods and Goddesses.”

“Is that where the idea of Mount Olympus stems from?” Hermione gaped at him, “shut up.”

“Honestly,” Kurt smiled, “it was a community of wizards living in Greece.”

“Pretty much,” Kurt nodded, “wizards have longer lifespans and have for millennia, the ordinary people used to live relatively short lives then and so a wizard’s lifespan would stretch over generations of those of men.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Finn grinned, “did you read about that during your nerdcation?”

“As a matter of fact I did,” Kurt smirked, “I briefly dabbled in civilizational history. It was more or less a waste of my time.”

“Dead people not as interesting as you thought they’d be?” Neville smirked.

“They were brilliantly colourful stories and I really enjoyed them,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’ve become disenchanted with history… to a point.” Kurt took a deep breath, “my father says it’s puberty but the tales of time gone by don’t bear the same weight as they once did, I’m now more interested in the contextualization rather than the actual events.”

Neville shook his head, “I know you're supposed to be my coolest friend but sometimes you’re so very boring. Where is Harry to save us from further explanation on how you’ve changed your method of studying history?”

“I sometimes ask myself why I put up with you people,” Kurt let out a defeated sigh.

“Lack of alternatives,” Neville suggested.

“We’re family,” Finn teased.

“I’m the best,” Hermione chuckled.

“We put up with you,” Luna gave him a pointed look.

“All valid argument,” Kurt nodded with a grin, “In future I’d like to see more of them about me.”

“Because that’s what the world needs,” Hermione teased, “to be more Kurt-centric.”

There was a roar from the Gryffindor spectators as Harry entered the arena, Kurt grinned, “the people have spoken.”

Harry stood on one end of the stadium with his chest puffed out, on the other end of the arena was a dragon that clearly believed that that best defence was a good offence. The she-dragon was large and had an armour of dull silver scales that was accented by two rows of spikes that lined her spine, growing in number as you approached the tip of her tail.

“ _Venir_ ,” Harry spoke clearly and his voice echoes over the cheering, his Firebolt appeared in his hands.

Harry mounted his broom and took off at great speed, flying close to the ground, the dragon crawled after him- her claws digging into the rock as she moved with great speed. The dragon breathed black flames in Harry’s direction but he managed to take evasive action, just barely. She stayed on his tale till he was mere feet from the edge of the arena, Harry turned into a sharp ascent and the dragon crashed into the wall, shaking the entire arena. Harry doubled back toward the dragons nest but it appeared that all he’d managed with his attempt at trickery was to anger the dragon, she blew a great plume of flames as black as death and swiped angrily in Harry’s direction. It seemed like it was only a matter of time before Harry was burnt to a crisp or one of her swipes met their mark, Harry was evading both as they came but there was no pattern to her movements. Harry began to climb, getting some altitude put some distance between himself and the dragon but with a great flap of her wings, she too was airborne.

The dragon swiped her claw and succeeded in knocking Harry off his broom, as Harry fell his first reaction was to reach for his broomstick but it was out of his grasp. Harry looked to panicking as he fell past the dragon that was hovering rather smugly, he suddenly waved his wand over his head, “ _Arresto momentum_.” His descent slowed and this didn’t please the dragon who dived in pursuit of the dark haired boy, Harry seemed to whisper something to himself before pointing his wand at the dragon, “ _petrificus totalus_.”

The dragon’s body went rigid and her wings and limbs clung to her side as if fastened in place by invisible chains. Harry ran across the arena, picked up the golden egg and retrieved his broomstick. The dragon was slowly regaining her mobility, she blew flames wildly around her as she only had autonomy over her head. Harry weaved through the black flames on his broomstick and managed to get over the finish line which left a less than pleased dragon.

“And you thought he’d die,” Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

“He was about to,” Kurt smirked, “till he remember the words of somebody much prettier and wiser than he is.”

“Don’t forget,” Hermione said, ignoring the second part of his statement, “SPEW meeting tomorrow morning, spread the word.”

“Where are you having the meeting?” Luna listened intently.

“In professor McGonagall’s classroom,” Hermione smiled, “the only other venue we could get would have intimidated people out of coming.”

“Where’s that?” Luna flipped her silver blond hair as she spoke.

“Professor Snape’s classroom,” Hermione smiled.

“I wouldn’t have gone,” Neville admitted guiltily

“We’re having a ‘Yay! You’re not dead’ party in the Hufflepuff common room later,” Finn grinned, “tell your friends.”

Kurt shushed their group, “Ludo Bagman is about to announce the results, let’s hear if I won my bet with Fred and George.”

Ludo Bagman stood at the judges table on the opposite end of the arena, “After deliberation by the five judges we have come to a decision on how the champions ranked; their rank is based on time, style and skill.” Ludo Bagman flashed a smarmy smile, “In fourth place we have our youngest champion, Harry Potter, who completed the task in the second longest time, displayed fair style but was lacking in skill.”

“He is after all only fourteen,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “they probably marked him down because he didn’t use non-verbal spells.”

“In third place,” Ludo smirked, “we have Cedric Diggory, who completed the task in the longest time but managed display great skill and a little style too.” Ludo shifted uncomfortably, “in second place is Viktor Krum, while he might have shown great skill, a fair amount of style and finished the task in the shortest time; that incident with the dragon eggs worked against him. That means that in first place we have Fleur Delacour, who showed skill, style and finished in the second shortest time; let’s be honest, she ran across the finish line before putting herself out.” 

The Beauxbatons girls let out a gleeful sigh and the arena was flooded with blue butterflies, “I hate when they do that.” Kurt and Hermione exchanged a look, they hadn’t meant to chorus that.

“They’re doing it unconsciously now,” Neville groaned, “Kill me now.”

“Haters are going to hate,” Hermione pursed her lips.

Kurt mirrored her, “Potatoes are going to potate.”


	9. Bonus 003: A meeting with Mad-Eye Moody

Professor Dumbledore drummed his fingertips together, he waited patiently for his guest to find his seat, “Liquorice snap?” Alastor Moody eyed him suspiciously and moved to take one, “Careful, they’re sharp.”

Moody withdrew his hand, “How can I help you headmaster?”

“I’ve got problems Alastor,” He was trying to maintain a strict air to the meeting but he simply couldn’t resist twirling in his chair. Alastor gave him a peculiar look, “twirl with me.”

“I’m fine Headmaster,” the man shook his head.

Professor Dumbledore rolled his eyes, “old age has made you boring.”

“It’s this new leg,” Alastor nodded rigorously, “it won’t allow it.”

“Oh,” Albus couldn’t help but peer at the prosthetic curiously, “what’s it made of?”

“Titanium,” Alastor fixed his normal eye on him but the magical one was still on high alert, “they’ve enchanted it to behave like a normal leg but it’s heavy as hell.”

“Looks heavy,” Albus agreed.

“How can I help you headmaster?” Alastor repeated, he grinned wilfully, “Or am I here because you enjoy looking at me?”

“Charming,” his smile fell, “no, I wanted to discuss Harry Potter’s dragon from earlier.” Albus sat up straight as a pin and put on his business demeanour, “is it me or was it much more aggressive than the rest?”

“I think it might be speciel,” Alastor shrugged it off, “Arthur’s boy seemed to think the horntail was generally more aggressive than the rest.”

“You see,” Albus got up and began to pace, “I studied dragons and I can’t let it go that easily.”

Alastor eyes his sceptically, “Isn’t a more accurate description that you once read a book on dragons?”

“I also did some experimenting with their blood,” Albus crossed his arms with pride, “I think that makes me an expert.”

“Does it?” Alastor tilted his head expectantly, “does it really?”

“We’re digressing?” Albus shook his head, “Would you like a brandy?”

“It’s Thursday,” Alastor countered.

“I said ‘a’ brandy, not a bottle,” Alastor rolled his eyes, “don’t mind if I have one then?”

“No,” Alastor shrugged, “be my guest.”

“I was told it is technically cognac by my last guest from whom it was a gift,” he chuckled to himself, “You know that this hat and this drink were both made by subsidiaries of the same conglomerate?”

Alastor sighed deeply, “I don’t even know what a conglomerate is?”

“Age has made you boring indeed,” Albus poured himself a glass of brandy and dropped back into his seat.

“I’m sorry Albus but I have a stack of fourth year tests as tall as I am,” the man’s magical eye rolled wildly, “waiting to be graded.”

“Oh, you should try giving Kurt Hummel a ‘B’,” he chuckled, “he simultaneously tried to strangle and set the last teacher who tried that on fire.”

“And you objected to me questioning a student who’d attempted murder,” Alastor sounded pleased with his autonomy, “I did well to question him and I still think there’s something funny about him.”

“No, you didn’t do well to question him when I’d told you not to,” Albus shook his head, “he wanted you fired, especially since he feels you don’t honour the curriculum. I stuck my neck out to save you and I had warned you.”

“Does that not sound like a dangerous student to you?” Alastor banged his fist on the desk, “Mr Hummel is a menace and should be monitored as such.”

“Mr Hummel is a great many things but he is neither a menace nor is he dangerous,” Professor Dumbledore assured his old friend as he sipped his brandy, “And Kurt Hummel is under my constant supervision, he is as loyal to me as you, yourself, are.”

“You seem to trust this boy implicitly despite his family’s long history of less than savoury behaviour,” Alastor eyed the headmaster wearily, “he must have you bewitched.”

“I don’t think I’m in any position to judge people for the actions of their parents,” Professor Dumbledore smirked, “not with my history.”

“I hardly think the two are the same,” Alastor shook his head, taking a swig from his hip flask.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled at how the man was unwilling to drink with him despite their long history, sticking to his paranoia and drinking his own beverage. The headmaster smirked, “why are you so determined to believe the worst of Mr Hummel? What is it that Bellatrix told you of her son that makes you so keen to see the boy ostracized?”

“The last time we let one of them into our midst, we were betrayed,” Alastor sounded self-satisfied, as if all he believed about Kurt Hummel was affirmed by this piece of history, “Or have you forgotten that Sirius Black killed Pettigrew, sold his best friend to the Dark Lord and killed twelve muggles.”

“I do not lightly forget the loss of innocence,” the headmaster snapped back.

“The madness of House Black is inescapable,” Alastor gave a distorted smirk, “it’s in his blood.”

“Do not speak ill of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!” The portrait of Phineas Nigellas Black roared angrily, “Least of all of the fine example of the family’s prowess and superiority that Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, mentioning him in the same context as that Sirius Black fellow.”

“That’s enough Black. Alastor, old friend, you should be careful,” Professor Dumbledore raised a precautionary finger, “you’re starting to sound like the other side. We do not draw distinctions between them and ourselves based on our heritage,” The headmaster rose to his full height, “I will not have any of my students mistreated on any grounds; be it Kurt Hummel, Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy! These children are exactly that, children.”

“Are you forbidding me from looking into Mr Hummel?”

“I’m advising you not to single out any student on any grounds,” Professor Dumbledore’s voice was firm and authoritative, “do not treat Mr Hummel any differently than you would any other student, he too is innocent until proven guilty.”

“Yes Headmaster,” the stoic man resigned to his defeat.

“You know, I didn’t call you here to rant and rave,” the headmaster let out a defeated sigh in spite of his victory, “I actually intended to discuss Harry Potter, not in his capacity as a student and not in your capacity as his Professor.”

“Then in what capacity did you wish to discuss the boy?” Alastor asked, his enchanted eye working double time.

“In his capacity as a Triwizard champion,” Professor Dumbledore leaned forward, “and in your capacity as an Auror; I still believe that Harry Potter was entered into this tournament under suspicious circumstances. I would like it if you kept close watch over the boy, guide him as much as you can and ensure his safety.”

“That happened to treating all students equally?” Alastor teased.

“This falls outside the realm of academia,” Professor Dumbledore shook his head, “and as a teacher you fill two roles in your students’ lives; that of educator, imparting knowledge and helping them grow their knowledge base, and that of surrogate parent.” Professor Dumbledore took a deep breath, “the two roles are quite polarized and should never overlap, and as such they tend to contradict each other at times.”


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt eyed himself in the mirror, “should I wear a tie or will that be too much?” Kurt tilted his head, he wasn’t impressed by what he saw when he looked at himself with the tie on, “that’s not right, is it?”

“Who are you talking to?” Vincent Crabbe eyed him suspiciously.

“Not you,” Kurt rolled his eyes but suddenly thought better of his actions, “but seeing as you asked, should I wear the tie?”

“I really don’t care,” Vincent grabbed his every flavoured beans and left.

“Don’t know why he asked if he didn’t want to help,” Kurt eyed his reflection waiting for a response, “I suppose I could always go naked, it would be the first time I was accused of being underdressed but certainly not the first time all eyes were on me as a result of my wardrobe choices.” Then Kurt was struck by sudden genius, “I could just go topless.”

Kurt stripped off his shirt and put his slim fit blazer back on with the tie hanging loosely around his neck, drawing attention to his collar bone; Kurt looked at himself, a flash of alabaster skin in place of a white button up- he was oozing sex appeal. Kurt ran his fingers carefully through his hair to create the image of effortlessness, he bit his lip and looked at himself; genius.

“What do you think Bella?” Kurt asked the midnight black kneazle, he received a reply that was part meow and part growl “that’s what I thought.” Kurt smiled to himself and slipped his wand into the concealed pocket in the blazer lining, exiting his shared dorm room.

Kurt walked through the crowded common room, there were cat calls, “Where are you off to?” Pansy Parkinson asked with a suggestive smirk on her face, “Are you all dolled up to spend the evening in the library with Granger?”

“I’m actually on my way to a party celebrating Harry surviving the first task,” Kurt smiled at his audience as he leaned over the back rest of one of the black leather couches. Kurt leaned forward to emphasise how unbothered he was by their glaring and staring, “Then one celebrating Cedric. Would you like to come?”

Pansy eyed him suspiciously, “I’ll pass.”

“Next time,” Kurt smiled, he hadn’t expected her to say yes but Kurt was trying something new.

Kurt had come to the stark realisation that he wasn’t very different from his fellow Slytherins; he came from a similar genetic background as many of them but the only difference was that he hadn’t been raised by his bigot parents. This understanding had come to Kurt a little after the revelation that his biological parents were death eaters, and with some help from Ron’s ignorance, he had come to understand that his life would be drastically different if the people whom he loved and depended on most had taught him prejudice and instead of acceptance, or if they’d taught him that he was better than people by virtue of birth as opposed to through sheer force and hard work.

It was after this realisation had been made that Kurt had decided that his classmates were no better than children who used curse words without knowing what they meant, they were emulating poor role models and the onus fell on him; he could chastise them for not knowing better or he could help them see the error of their ways. Kurt’s father once told him that he would catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, at the time a young Kurt hadn’t understood why his father wanted to catch flies but now Kurt understood. His bitchy demeanour and snide comments didn’t have any function other than his own amusement, as such were not beneficial to anyone. He would have to court the Slytherins before he could get them to listen to his attempts to steer them in the right direction.

“Good evening,” Kurt stood in front of the portrait of the fat lady, he smiled at her, “I’m here for the party.”

“That won’t do,” she shook her head, “you need the password love.”

“Yes, I know,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “I’m three minutes early and Hermione isn’t here yet, she’s letting me in.”

“I’m sorry but you’re going to have to wait here,” She shrugged, “Professor McGonagall would have me deposed if I let you in without the password, they’d probably bring that Cadagan fool back.”

Kurt stood in silence for a moment before he quirked a curious brow, “Could I ask you a question?”

“I suppose so,” she rolled her eyes, “but if you think I’ll make the mistake of telling you the password then you are mistaken, that was a one-time thing.”

“Who are you and what era were you painted in?” Kurt furrowed his brow, “you’re dressed like you’re from ancient Greece but the technique is definitely renascence, you have strongly eastern European facial features but you have your hair in French pompadour style, what gives?”

“Oh,” the fat lady was surprised, Kurt suspected that people probably didn’t speak to her as anything more than as a means to an end, “I’m Helga of Kiev and the technique is High Middle Ages.”

“Twelfth Century Renaissance.” Kurt nodded, then he smirked “Wasn’t it Olga of Kiev?”

“That was my mother,” she chuckled, “she thought it would be cute to name me after herself, I’m not impressed.”

“If my mother had named me Christine then I wouldn’t be a happy camper either,” Kurt chuckled, pushing out of his mind the possibility that he might have been named Bellatrix.

“I invented jet setting and I lived a many and plentiful life,” Helga explained, “I lived all over the continent; I married a sheik, a king, an emperor and even a peasant.”

“That sounds pretty epic,” Kurt nodded, he was impressed.

“But why are you hanging here?” Hermione startled Kurt, having seemingly appeared from nowhere beside him.

“You startled me half to death,” Kurt swatted her arm playfully.

Hermione giggled, “Sorry, I forget that you’re always ready to jump out of your skin.”

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to go in now,” Helga snapped.

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “Do carry on, we’re very interested.”

“I was Godric’s best friend,” she smirked, “we spent our lives travelling together, living the adventure together.”

Hermione elbowed him playfully, “they were like the medieval Kurt and Hermione.”

“I’m not making you the door to the dormitory of the house named in my honour at the school I establish,” Kurt smirked at Hermione, “if that kind of thing ever happened.”

“I only plan on marrying once, if it doesn’t work out I will give up,” Hermione chuckled, she went silent and eyed Kurt for a moment, “you look sexy.”

“Thank you,” Kurt smiled, “shall we?”

“Absolutely,” she grinned, “Variatus.”

“Where have you been?” Kurt raised a brow.

“I was in the library,” Hermione blushed.

Kurt made a mental note to investigate that blush. The party in the Gryffindor common room was mild at best, there was light music coming from the wireless but other than that there was nothing to indicate that this was a social gather, “this party is dead.”

“You missed the cheering,” Angelina Johnson chortled from an armchair by the fire, “it’s been downhill since then.”

“Where are Harry and Neville?” Kurt was very disappointed, his outfit was wasted here.

“Neville left,” Ginny smiled as she came down the stares from the girls’ dormitory, “Harry’s upstairs.”

“Everyone left,” Angelina corrected, “they heard the Hufflepuffs had free beer.”

“Thank you Ginny,” Kurt smiled at her, “you should go get changed, we’re going to a real party; one that requires some semblance of having tried. Please don’t ask me what’s wrong with what you’re wearing.”

“Angelina,” the question evident in Hermione’s voice, “why haven’t you left?”

“I’m trying to gather the strength to get up,” Angelina chuckled, “I think I’m tired but once I stand up from here I’ll be ready.”

The pair giggled as Kurt followed Hermione up the stairs to the fourth year boys’ dormitory, they entered to find Ron and Harry giggling, “Oh great, you’re here.”

“Harry and I are cool again,” Ron smiled broadly, “also this is my room.”

“That’s lovely for you and Harry,” Kurt pursed his lips.

Ron furrowed his brow, Hermione stepped forward, “what Kurt means is that it’s about damn time you came to your senses.”

“That’s not really what I meant,” Kurt smiled, “but if it was, I would have called him an idiot.”

Harry cleared his throat, “you guys enjoying the party.”

“About as much as I’m enjoying this conversation,” Kurt yawned for dramatic effect, “I think we should move on, Finn has liquor.”

“I’m going to change into my gym dress and meet you downstairs,” Hermione chuckled.

“Are you going dressed like that?” Ron’s eyes were wide open.

“Don’t beg the question,” Kurt turned to him and scowled, “I dislike you enough without you doing things that irritate me.”

“What?”

“Which part was difficult for you to understand?” Kurt quirked an expectant brow.

“I want to say the ‘beg the question part’ but I’m confused by the rest of it as well so to be safe I’m going to say all of it,” Ron smiled.

“To beg the question is to ask a question when you have an answer in mind,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “you ask the question in such a way that only one answer is appropriate. You expected me to say, ‘dressed like what?’ and feel so insecure about my outfit that I’d go and change.”

Ron took a step back and leaned in to whisper to harry, “He’s reading my mind.”

“Probably not,” Harry shook his head, “it’s more likely to be psychology than voodoo.”

“Voodoo is ritual magic,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “it has no day to day applications.”

“I’m a little afraid,” Harry chuckled as Kurt bounced on his bed.

“Probably with good reason,” Ron scoffed.

“Which brings us to the second part,” Kurt snapped, “The fact that you and Harry have reconciled doesn’t mean that you and I are in the green again.” Kurt crossed his arms angrily, “you treat me terribly and I accept it because we have this complex relationship where we don’t actually like each other but we’re very good friends. I’m okay with whatever the hell we have but I can’t trust somebody who treats their best friend that way.”

“Did you learn that in Dark Arts?” Ron sneered.

“You might be out of the loop but I’m sure you’ve heard that I know a spell that can break every bone in your body,” Kurt glared at Ron.

An awkward silence filled the room, Harry let out a small cough, “I’m ready to go.”

Kurt twirled in front of the dark haired boy, “what do you think?”

“I think Cedric is the luckiest man I know,” Harry wagged a suggestive brow.

“Thanks but this isn’t for him,” Kurt smiled, “this is about attention.”

“Isn’t everything?” Harry chuckled, “Hermione’s probably waiting for us downstairs.”

“Off we go,” Kurt sashayed toward the door, “you too.”

“You too,” Ron mumbled an imitation of him.

Kurt was greeted by the image of Hermione in a navy dress and a cropped leather jacket, “Hi Miss, I hope you don’t mind me asking but do those legs go all the way up?”

Hermione turned to him and smiled, “as a matter of fact they do kind sir.”

“My legs go up the normal amount,” Ginny quipped.

“We accept you with all your short comings,” Kurt smiled at her, he wasn’t sure if she’d changed or not but it was time to go. They filed out of the portrait hole, “Goodbye Helga.”

“Who’s Helga?” Ron sniped.

“She the woman in the portrait,” Furrowed his brow.

“She has a name,” Harry’s eyes shot wide open, “I always just called her the fat lady.”

“Imagine how she feels about that,” Hermione crossed her arms.

“She’s a painting, I don’t think she feels much,” Ron chortled.

“Asking for you to think would have been asking too much,” Ginny jeered.

“Imagine if we called Harry ‘Scarhead’ or ‘Knobby-knees’,” Hermione explained, “he wouldn’t like it much would he?”

Harry clutched his scar defensively, “You think my knees are knobby?”

“Don’t make this about you,” Kurt shook his head as they climbed down flight after flight of stairs to the basement, “it’s about to become about me.” There was a round of laughter, the corridor in the basement was filled with peripheral guest of the party they were heading to and the loud dance music was vibrating off the walls already, “Don’t you think it’s funny that this considered the basement but it’s on the same level as the Slytherin common room which is considered dungeon.”

“Maybe they’re trying to tell you something,” Harry teased.

“Like what?” Kurt smiled villainously, “what is it that they’re hinting at?”

“That you’re probably going to fall to the dark arts and become the newest malevolent ruler of the dark side,” Hermione elbowed him in the ribs playfully.

“Oh honey no,” Kurt shook his head, “I shall never fall to the dark arts as they tend to seduce naïve wizards; firstly because I am not naïve but also because I don’t get seduced, I do the seducing.”

“Fifty points to Slytherin,” Hermione cheered as they came to the rows of barrels that marked the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

“I think they deserve the house cup,” Ginny giggled.

“I second the motion,” Harry chuckled.

“Oh my gosh,” Kurt wiped away fake tears, “I’d like to thank the academy and I’d also like to thank Meryl Streep for being born a woman, were it not for that this award would be yours girl.”

“Kurt,” Anthony smiled at them, “you brought Hermione.”

Hermione grinned as she leaned against the stacked barrels, “Are you going to let us in?”

“The party has been waiting for you,” Anthony smirked at the pair and knocked on a barrel, the barrels moved out of the way to reveal an archway leading into the darkened basement.

“Good one devil,” Kurt winked at the large senior.

The Hufflepuff common room had only sufficient lighting for one to see an arms-length ahead of their own nose, Finn had found some way to create a strobe effect with the little lighting they had. Kurt, by gut instinct alone, had found his way to the drinks table and it was there that Finn found them; he kissed each of them, with tongue.

“That always just sneaks up on you,” Harry shuddered.

“I think I just had my first kiss,” Ron sounded traumatized.

“Ew, we had our first kiss with the same person,” Ginny chuckled.

“It’s a rite of passage of sorts in this circle,” Finn chuckled as he dragged Kurt, and by extension the rest of the group, across the dance floor. Finn brought them to a tall boy table accommodating Santana, Dani, Neville and Luna; Finn took their cups, “I wouldn’t drink that, it’s mostly horsepee.”

“And what should we drink?” Hermione pursed her lips.

“Are we going to ignore the fact that the Hufflepuffs are serving their guests horsepee?” Ginny protested.

“Don’t question it,” Harry grinned.

“From Oma with love,” Finn held up a bottle of _Moët & Chandon_.

“Did she send any pills?” Harry teased.

“How dare you!” Kurt snapped angrily, “my grandmother is a classy lady, pills were made to be drank with bourbon not champagne.”

“Did you also get tongue kissed?” he heard Ginny asking Luna, the music wasn’t as loud in this part of the basement.

“We got here before he got kissy drunk,” Luna chuckled as she swayed gently with the music.

“I didn’t let it stop me,” Neville shrugged.

“It didn’t stop any of us,” Santana shuddered.

Hermione offered him a glass of bubbly but he turned her down, Kurt leaned in close to Finn, “Where is Cedric?”

“Are you topless?”

“Yes.”

Finn chuckled, “You did it for attention, didn’t you?”

“You know me so well,” Kurt mused.

“I just know that you didn’t do it for my friend,” Finn shook his head, “when are you going to put him out of his misery?”

“The good things in life are worth waiting for,” Kurt purred.

Finn shook his head, “you don’t get to tease me like that.”

Finn pointed Cedric out, he was a couple of tables over. Kurt bid his friends farewell and danced toward his boyfriend, “Good evening Beautiful.”

Cedric beamed at him, “you look exquisite.”

“Don’t I always?” Kurt wagged a seductive brow, “let’s dance.”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Cedric blushed, “you’ll have to hold me tightly tiny dancer.”

“Did you just quote Elton John?” Kurt smiled broadly, “you’re heading straight for a smack bottom.”

Kurt and Cedric danced close to each other as a club mix throbbed in the background, Kurt only recognised the song as one of Finn’s uncouth rap songs by the chanting of ‘party and bullshit’. Kurt wasn’t shy to lead the dancing, with Cedric mostly following stiffly as he tried to keep up with Kurt’s more nimble and graceful movement.

Cedric leaned in to whisper in his ear, “aren’t you going to tell me you told me so?”

“I don’t need to tell you what you already know,” Kurt smiled, “Next time you’ll take my advice more seriously.”

“Next time I’ll hang on your every word,” Cedric crooned in his ear.

“Oh, Mr Diggory,” Kurt grinned bashfully, “You flatter me.”

“And you tempt me,” Cedric whispered.

Kurt quirked a curious brow, “And what do I tempt you to do?”

“Oh,” Cedric chuckled as they danced close to each other, “cure my ailment.”

“Does that make me your medicine,” Kurt leaned up and kissed him, “or your doctor?”

“It makes you my drug,” Cedric’s voice was low, the music and their surroundings had faded away, “The one thing I cannot get enough of.”

Kurt smiled broadly, pulled Cedric in for a deep and head spinning kiss. Kurt grabbed the taller boy by the scruff of his shirt and dragged him across the dance floor, parting the sea of people as they went.

“Leaving already?” Malcolm Fleece teased, having replaced Anthony at the door. Kurt kissed Cedric deeply in the now deserted corridor, the prefect working the door had clearly done away with loitering.

“Let’s go somewhere more conducive to conversation,” Kurt whispered in his boyfriend’s ear, “follow me.”

Kurt took off in a light jog, pulling Cedric along behind him as he navigated the corridors; the pair came to a stop in front of an old oak door, Kurt pulled Cedric into a kiss up against the door. Kurt gestured for his companion to be quiet as he unlocked the door and they slipped into the classroom.

“What is this place?” Cedric looked around.

Kurt giggled, “It’s a dark arts classroom, you wouldn’t know that being a NEWT student.”

“Why do you have a key?”

“Professor McGonagall gave it to me,” Kurt looked around the classroom, “this used to be mine, I used to have a baby grand in the corner; perks of having a master of transfiguration in your pocket.”

“You seem to attract those who are well-versed in transfiguration as if by second instinct,” Cedric smirked, kissing the nape of Kurt’s neck.

Kurt giggled, “Could I have a moment of your time?”

“You could have all my time,” Cedric teased.

“Listen to me for a moment,” Kurt pulled back from their embrace, “I need to say something important to you.”

Cedric took a step back and leaned against the desk, “you didn’t bring me up here to break up with me, did you?”

“No, don’t be absurd. I’m cruel but I’m not cruel enough make out with you and tease you just before I kick you to the curb,” Kurt chuckled to himself, “I love you but when you were facing that dragon I realised something about myself, there will never be an us.” Kurt grabbed his love by the arms, “I will never be able to assimilate myself into some family unit or become that person in a couple that always refers to themselves as plural; I am a strong person, I have strong beliefs and my passion burns hotter than a thousand suns. I must always be me, I must always be true to what I want and I must always be true to where my ambition shall lead me.”

“I know these things about you,” Cedric nodded, “I think the only person who might know more about you than me is Hermione, and I don’t even want to go into that.”

“I’m selfish Cedric,” Kurt’s voice was soft and pleading, “This is the moment when you can take a step back from the Kurt monster and see if you want to walk away because if you aren’t ready to be with somebody as self-involved as I am, you will come out of this as a shadow of who you once were.”

“I would rather be a shadow in the darkest pit of life than miss out on this journey,” Cedric pulled Kurt into a kiss.

“I thought you’d say that,” Kurt smirk as he pressed himself against the taller boy.

Cedric smiled, nuzzling Kurt’s neck, “What now?”

“Well,” Kurt ran his fingers through his boyfriend’s full head of hair and fiddled with Cedric’s belt buckle, “we move forward.”

~0~

“You disappeared early last night,” Hermione sat up straight as a pin in Professor McGonagall’s classroom as they waited for people to arrive to their SPEW meeting, “You missed out on a lot of champagne.”

“I can tell,” Kurt smiled at his friend, “do you want an aspirin?”

“Are you allowed to dispense medication?” Hermione quirked a brow.

“It’s over the counter and I was almost a doctor,” Kurt shook his head, “it’s totally legal.”

“I didn’t mean by law, I meant according to school rules,” Hermione peered at him curiously, “but how were you almost a doctor.”

“I once considered applying to medical school when I finish school,” Kurt shrugged the matter off, “it was a foolish and childish conquest, I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“That doesn’t make you almost a doctor,” Hermione shook her head and looked to regret it immediately, “that barely makes you almost a med student.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, “bitch, do you want this aspirin or not?”

“Fine,” Hermione took the small pill from him, “but you have to tell me where you and Cedric disappeared off to.”

“We went to the Dark Arts classroom that used to be mine,” Kurt smiled coyly, it was a put on, “we had an intimate moment, a conversation of sorts; some might say we practiced the dark arts.”

“Oh my gosh,” Hermione squealed excitedly, she clutched her head but regretted nothing, “You didn’t.”

“I did!” Kurt wagged a suggestive brow.

“And?” Hermione leaned forward expectantly, “how was it?”

Kurt grinned, “thanks to a little well placed advice, it was an exonerating experience.”

“My mother said it would open the door greatest debauchery of my university years,” Hermione twiddled her thumbs nervously, “I think she was subtly trying to tell me something.”

“That you should go to college?” Kurt rolled his eyes condescendingly.

Hermione nudged him in the ribs, “that I should wait till I’m in university.”

“I’m almost certain she just meant that sexual experimentation would broaden your world,” Kurt pursed his lips guiltily, “and it’s not like I went all the way, I just went pretty far.”

“Oh no, I’m not judging you,” Hermione protested, “if anything I am living vicariously through you.” Hermione shrugged, hiding a blush, “besides, even if I wanted to do something like that, I don’t have any immediate prospects.”

Kurt eyed her suspiciously, “every time you blush I feel like the rest of the Slytherins feel when I’m being nice to them.”

Hermione mumbled something undecipherable under her breath, “oh look, people.”

“Saved by the bell,” Kurt purred.

The attendants of the inaugural meeting of the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare were a mix of known muggleborn students, overachievers, Weasleys, their circle of friends and where ever the aforementioned overlapped. Professor McGonagall got up from her desk on the opposite end of the classroom, waved her wand and vanished the superfluous furniture so that all that remained was a circle of chairs with the double desk that Hermione and Kurt were sitting at.

“Take your seats with haste,” Professor McGonagall spoke in an authoritative tone that was standard for the accomplished deputy headmistress, “When a meeting is called for eight, it is not wise to arrive at eight. Ms Granger will begin the meeting soon.”

Kurt scanned the crowd and a few faces outside their regular circle stood out to him at first glance; the likes of Dean Thomas, Colin and Denis Creevey, a fifth year Hufflepuff named Kevin Entwhistle, Angelina Johnson, Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecomb, a seventh year Ravenclaw girl named Rebecca, the entirety of Kurt’s Muggle Studies class and Professor Burbage. Kurt assumed that a vast majority of their audience was either here on the insistence of Professor Burbage, Hermione Granger or himself but that would be sufficient to get the dialog on the issue going.

Hermione cleared her throat, “Good morning and thank you for joining us this morning. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Hermione Jean Granger and I’d like to welcome you to the first meeting for the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare.” Professor Burbage led their guests in an encouraging but not overly enthusiastic round of applause, “Our mission as SPEW is to see the abolition of elf enslavement, we further aim to see them elevated from the currently widely acceptable position of maltreatment.”

“But they like the work they do,” Ron interrupted, “the house elves, I mean.”

“Do not interrupt Mr Weasley,” Professor McGonagall chided him over the echoed agreements.

“No, it’s fine,” Hermione assured the deputy headmistress before turning to Ron, “whether or not they ‘enjoy’ the work is inconsequential to their enslavement and the way in which they are treated, and considered lesser by wizardkind.” Hermione took a deep breath and Kurt could tell that the anger she was feeling was only motivating her to further apply herself to the cause, “we’re not here to take work away from house elves, we are here to give them a choice as to what work they do, how they do it, how they are compensated for their work, that they are treated fairly and that their families are no longer ripped apart for profit or so that they might work more efficiently.”

Kurt tapped her shoulder and she took her seat, “I’m Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and it will be my honour this morning to inform you of the course of action we have outlined for how we wish to go about with fighting the enslavement of elfkind. Our movement is divided into three main arms; Bureaucracy, House Elf Dignity and Guerrilla tactics.” Kurt paused to let what he was saying sink in, “Bureaucracy will comprise of a letter writing campaign, petitions, and motions advocating for proper structures to protect house elves and grant them rights. House Elf dignity will begin with the spreading of clothing with this enchanted label on it,” Kurt held up the small strip of fabric, “it reads ‘this item of clothing will not set the house elf who wears it free but rather will act as an alternative to their current garb’, we will also teach house elves how to read and write so that they might have pride in themselves and strive toward better treatment.”

“Guerrilla tactics will consist of occupations of the ministry by various members of the group as well as protests at the ministry and sending howlers to the minister,” Kurt smiled at the group as they drank in what was being said, “we will now open the meeting to the floor, allow you to ask questions and share your opinions. At the end of the meeting there will be a sign up sheet where you can put your name down to join the group if you are ready to dedicate yourself to the cause.”

“Bravo,” Professor Burbage got to her feet and wondered into the centre of the circle, “might I commend these two students for the initiative they are taking by taking up the plight of the oppressed. Again I say bravo, and the manner with which you have planned your resistance reminiscent of many a great struggle leader.” She clapped her hands excitedly but Kurt thought there, “I’m sure the likes of Martin Luther King jnr, Nelson Mandela, Ghandi and Harvey Milk would have been proud to have you on their side.”

Kurt and Hermione exchanged an uncomfortable look, that was high praise considering they hadn’t done anything but plan a course of action.

Finn raised his hand, “does every member work on all the sectors or would the work be divided?”

“There will be a combination of fixed members and floating members,” Hermione explained, “depending on where man power is most needed.”

“I think the bit about house elf dignity will be a very important part of this movement,” Padma Petil smiled broadly from her seat beside Finn, “it will ensure that they don’t resist the movement and that they realise that being freed of enslavement, not being punished or expatriated from society.”

“You are so right, Ms Petil,” Professor Burbage got to her feet and applauded, there was something odd about her appearance, she resembled Hector but at the same time retained her normal physique, “To quote Bantu Steve Biko, the oppressor’s most powerful weapon is the mind of the oppressed.”

“She needs to stop drawing parallels between this movement and those of more established activists,” Kurt hissed in Hermione’s ear.

“Is there something wrong with her?” Hermione hissed back, “she looks like Mrs Markowitz and Dr Cooper at the same time.”

“Maybe she has metamorphmagus flu,” Kurt shrugged, “I hope it isn’t contagious.”

“Kurt,” Hermione reprimanded him.

“I like looking like myself,” Kurt shrugged, “I don’t mean it in a prejudicial way.”

“Charity,” Professor McGonagall peered at the Muggle studies professors as they cycled through each other at random, “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” she smiled, the moment she was Hector made for rather salacious grin, “why do you ask?”

“You keep changing appearance,” Professor McGonagall approached slowly, “rather rapidly actually, I think somebody should go get Madam Pomphry.”

Professor Burbage had gone pale, as she eyed her hands cautiously, “No, get Dr Rhodes.”

“Getting both wouldn’t hurt,” Kurt snapped as he watched his teacher’s body contort and twist, no longer cycling through her alternates. Her body now appeared to be feeling in the dark for a form to take, it was rather frightening and Kurt had to hold onto Hermione not to lose consciousness, “I don’t feel so well.”

“I second the motion,” Neville nodded before shaking his head, “don’t say motion.”

“Dr Rhodes in the house,” the petit blonde woman announced as she entered the classroom, she stopped when her gaze landed on Professor Burbage, “I’m going to need you to step back from the convulsing muggle studies professor. How long has she been like this?”

“it started out mildly but it’s been about a minute and a half,” Professor McGonagall responded, “maybe two.”

“What’s happening?” Hermione squeaked.

“Professor Burbage’s is having a seizure,” Dr Rhodes’ had a melodic voice that soothed Kurt regardless of how high strung he was feeling. Kurt relaxed for a moment, “she’s going to be fine, there’s no need to panic just give her some space.”

Professor Burbage stopped convulsing and Dr Rhodes checked her watch, “Thank you April.”

“I haven’t really done anything yet,” Dr Rhodes smiled, “but you could help me by conjuring a stretcher for me.”

“Oh, of course,” Professor McGonagall nodded and waved her wand.

“Now is as good a time as any to end the meeting, but before you go,” Kurt spoke over the commotion, “don’t forget to sign up if you’re interested.”

“I hope Professor Burbage comes out of this alright,” Hermione hugged herself tightly.

“If Dr Rhodes says she’s fine then there’s no need to worry,” Kurt laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she nodded her agreement and they began to pack their things.

“It’s so unlike you to trust so explicitly,” Hermione giggled.

“Dr Rhodes has proven herself,” Kurt smirked, “not just to me but to Oxford.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as they watched the masses begin to shuffle out of the classroom, Fred and George moved in the opposite direction, “Hermione, Kurt, interesting way to end a meeting.”

“But we’re not here to judge,” Fred shook his head.

“We’re actually here to help,” they chorused.

“You see, Ron might not have been entirely wrong,” George shrugged.

“But hear us out before you rip us a new one,” Fred held his hands up defensively.

“So we have a suggestion,” they chorused with a broad grin.

“You should talk to the house elves in the kitchens,” Fred nodded.

“That will give you an idea of what house elves think about the issue,” George smirked.

“And it will make a great starting point for your campaign.”

“When you say kitchens,” Kurt began, his brow furrowed.

“Do you mean the Hogwarts kitchens?” the horror in Hermione’s voice was evident.

“Because we’ve read every publication about Hogwarts,” Kurt’s heart was racing and voice growing coarse.

“From cover to cover,” Hermione clarified, “and we’ve never come across any mention of the use of house elf slave labour.”

“Breath,” Kurt said, more for his own benefit than Hermione’s.

“Okay,” the twins took a step back from Kurt and Hermione, “don’t curse the messenger.”

“Take us to the kitchens,” Kurt spoke calmly before raising his voice, “now!”

“As you wish your majesty,” the twins chorused with a bow.

“Don’t patronise me,” Kurt snapped as he slung his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“We’re not patronising you,” Fred shook his head.

“We recognise your majestic nature and think it is something to be revered,” George nodded.

“You still have to pay me for winning that bet,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “As much as I appreciate the compliments; I’m going to need every extra galleon I can manage, I’m saving.”

Hermione looked up from the notebook she’d been scribbling furiously into, “Did Kurt just say he was saving?”

Kurt stopped a few steps below her and looked up at her with a patronising glare, “I’m practicing some austerity.”

“Why?” she chuckled, “did Finn stop giving you his allowance?”

“I’m saving that as well,” Kurt smiled as they navigated down the corridor in a familiar fashion, “and when I’m done saving, Finn and I will be the better for it.”

“I’m so curious,” Hermione beamed, she stopped dead in her tracks as they reached the Hogwarts basement, “isn’t this the way to the Hufflepuff common room?”

“It is,” George nodded.

“The Kitchen is adjacent to the Hufflepuff common room,” Fred agreed.

“Now we know how the Fat Friar got fat,” Hermione giggled.

“Honey,” Kurt shook his head, “That was obvious from how he reacted to not being able to eat anything at Nearly Headless Nick’s death day party.”

“He was distraught,” Hermione agreed.

“We weren’t invited,” the twins chorused, sulkily crossing their arms.

“Neither were we,” Hermione shrugged.

“It’s just not a party without the two of us,” Kurt smirked.

Hermione shook her head, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

They came to a stop in front of the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common room, where they’d conversed with Anthony the previous night. Fred pointed to the large surreal painting of green men who had folded themselves into apples, he tickled one and he began to giggle and a doorway appeared in the canvas.

“Follow me,” George reached out a hand as he stepped into the painting.

Hermione grabbed his hand and with her hand firmly in Kurt’s, the world dissolved into clean lines, mountains shaped like a kissing couple, butterflies and aqueduct elephants for a moment before that too dissolved into a dark room that had the same dimensions as the Great hall.

“I think I’m going to need another aspirin,” Hermione groaned.

“I’ll never understand that entrance,” Fred shuddered.

“It’s _Gennady Privedentsev_ ,” George rolled his eyes, “he’s a surrealist artist.”

“And that’s why George is my favourite,” Kurt smirked and winked at Fred.

“Did you hear that,” George stuck out his tongue at his brother.

“I’m his favourite,” Fred beamed.

“He was talking about me,” George snapped.

“Yes but he meant me,” Fred argued, “he even pointed at me.”

“You don’t deserve to be his favourite,” George chided his brother, “you don’t deserve to be anyone’s favourite.”

“Really?” Fred quirked a brow, “then why do I get more dialog?”

“I’m liked for my body,” George flexed.

“We have the same body,” Fred rolled his eyes.

“It looks better on me,” George grinned, “I’m a tall drink of something good.”

“Says the person without an OWL in potions,” Fred smirked, “what the hell do you know about tall drinks of anything?”

“Kettle calling the pot black,” George shrugged.

“Wait,” Fred furrowed his brow, “I thought I was the pot.”

“It doesn’t sound right the other way round,” George smirked.

“We’re going to be over here,” Hermione spoke once she’d snapped out of the stupor the boys had pulled them into, “doing what we came down here for.”

Kurt cleared his throat, “Hi, good morning.” Kurt smiled at the house elves milling about the large room, “might we have a moment of your time please.”

“We’re working on lunch,” one of the house elves spoke in a squeaky voice before returning to work.

“This will only take a moment or so,” Hermione smiled invitingly down at the house elves who were tending pots and making sandwiches, “please, we only mean to speak to you.”

“No time,” another house elf shook his head as he passed with a platter of turkey slices.

“Please,” Hermione pleaded, “just a moment.”

“House Elves of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft,” Kurt’s voice echoed through the large room, “lend us your ears.” They all fell quiet and stopped dead in their tracks, “I didn’t think that would work, Hermione.”

“Right,” Hermione cleared her throat, “We’re member of the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare and we’d like to ask you some questions about your working conditions.”

“We are working toward the abolition of house elf slavery,” Kurt clarified, the house elves lost interest and got back to their work. Kurt turned to Hermione, “what happened? People generally love it when I speak.”

“The house elves of Hogwarts do not want to be freed, friends of Harry Potter,” a small voice called from behind them, “they fear they will lose their work and livelihood if they are freed.”

“You know we have names of our own right,” Kurt rolled.

“Dobby did not mean to insult the friends of Harry Potter,” the doe eyed house elf looked up at them, “Dobby has done it again.”

“We’re not insulted,” Kurt assured the house elf, “it’s just a matter of having an identity outside of the company you keep.”

“Dobby,” Hermione smiled as if she’d had a brilliant idea, “why don’t you tell the other house elves about the pleasure of being a free elf?”

“What’s so great about it?” a second house elf appeared beside Dobby, she was barely able to stand up straight.

“Somebody’s sauced,” Kurt peered at her in bewilderment, “maybe she was at Finn’s party.”

“Dobby has tried to tell them of the joys of being free,” Dobby held the female elf up, “but they see Winky and are afraid, being free has turned Winky into an alcoholic.”

“Winky,” Hermione wracked her brain, “why does that sound familiar?”

“We met her at the quidditch world,” Kurt helped her along.

“Oh yes,” Hermione nodded, sympathy clear on her face, “the house elf who was freed as punishment.”

“You dedicate your whole life to a family, you make them the centre of your existence and then you lose their son for a moment,” Winky sobbed inconsolably, “and they throw you out like garbage. I taught young master all the card games.” Sudden realisation dawned on the house, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She retrieved a bottle of butterbeer from the pocket of her skirt and took a large swig, “is that her poison of choice?” Kurt raised a curious brow, “the alcohol content in this is negligible, it’s mostly sugar.”

“It is sufficiently potent for house elves,” Dobby protest.

“They are much smaller than wizards,” Hermione shrugged.

“Then Keep her away from the Tej,” Kurt shuddered, “I thought I was going to die.”

“Dobby,” Hermione kneeled, “might we ask a favour of you?”

“Anything for a friend of Harry Potter,” Dobby grinned.

“It seems the house elves aren’t interested in talking to Hermione and myself,” Kurt got to his knees as well, they were at eye level with Dobby, “would you mind gathering some information for us? A survey of sorts.”

Hermione smiled, “it would go a long way in helping us with attaining freedom for all house elves.”

“Dobby would be honoured to help in such a noble quest,” Dobby nodded excitedly.

“We’ll come back with the questions later,” Kurt smiled, “and here.” Kurt pulled out an aspirin, “give Winky half of this when she’s sober, it will help with the hangover.”

“You’re such a softy,” Hermione smirked at Kurt, “comfortable on your knees.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” Kurt chuckled, “how about you?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Hermione pursed her lips.

“Better hurry to the library then,” Kurt flashed her a devilish smile, Hermione blushed.

~0~

“Good evening Students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang,” Professor Dumbledore rang the little bells on the chain that cinched his beard, they made a more delicate sound this time, “as a student of Hogwarts said earlier today, lend me your ears.”

“Okay, that is freaky,” Hermione turned to Kurt with eyes the size of saucers, “how did he know that?”

“We had tea in the afternoon while you were in the library,” Kurt waited for her to blush but it didn’t come.

“I have the great pleasure to announce the next event on the calendar of Triwizard Tournament,” Professor Dumbledore smiled broadly, “the Yule Ball!” Kurt looked to Hermione excitedly but she didn’t reciprocate, “The Yule Ball is a dance and a chance to socialise with your peers from our brother and sister schools, it is unfortunately restricted to students in fourth year and up, unless you’re invited of course.”


	11. Chapter 11

Kurt crinkled his nose in distaste, “it’s not fair.”

“What exactly isn’t fair?” Hermione quirked a brow, holding back her amusement at her friend’s sulking, “please, enlighten me.”

“Tracey Davis has been asked to the Yule Ball three time, Padma Petil is beating them off with a stick,” Kurt slammed his book shut, “even Pansy Parkinson has been asked twice.”

“And your point being?”

“I’ve only been asked once,” Kurt let out a cry of despair and laid his head on the closed library book before him, “am I so monstrous?”

“You have a boyfriend,” Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend’s pity party.

“I know that,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be asked.”

“People assume you’ll be taking Cedric to the ball,” Hermione’s tone had a whiff of condescent to it.

“I am taking Cedric,” Kurt peered at her curiously.

“That’s why nobody has asked you.”

“Boo,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Also,” Hermione quirked a devious brow, “we’re in a love quadrangle with Harry and Cedric.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kurt snapped and pointed an accusatory finger at his best friend, “people don’t actually believe that!”

“You’ll be surprised what people will believe,” Hermione giggled, “Mrs Weasley believed it.”

“I heard,” Kurt slumped in his seat, “And I’ve since lost faith in all humanity.”

“From whom did you hear?” Hermione quirked a brow, “because it was in a letter to Ron.”

“You don’t get to know as much as I do by simply having one source,” Kurt patted the top of Hermione’s head condescendingly, “you learn to keep your ear to the ground.”

Hermione furrowed her brow for a moment, “What does that even mean?”

“Hipster Weasley told me,” Kurt shrugged, “he was with his mother when she read the article.”

“Which one was Hipster Weasley?” Hermione smirked, “was it biceps?”

“It was biceps,” Kurt agreed.

“I thought you two didn’t like each other,” Hermione smirked.

“I’m impossible to hate.”

“And that’s why you’ve been asked to the Yule ball so many times,” Hermione teased.

“That’s an indication that there’s something wrong with the world, not me,” Kurt crossed his arms angrily, “I’ve lost all faith in Humankind… Wizardkind too.”

“Isn’t that a little extreme?” Hermione shook her head, “Especially since you're dating the most eligible boy in school.”

“No, I’m inconsolable,” Kurt shook his head, “don’t try to make me feel better.”

“Well,” Hermione shrugged, “if I’m not even supposed to try…”

“Since when do you listen to anything I say,” Kurt quirked a brow, “try bitch.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Anthony asked me to the Yule ball,” Hermione grinned.

“Oh my gosh,” Kurt pepped up and his eye shot open, “wait, which one?”

“Both,” Hermione’s smile was slightly devilish, “I told Anthony Rickett I had a date and I told Anthony Goldstein that I’d thrown better away; by which I meant I’d thrown Anthony Rickett away.”

“You have a date!” Kurt’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “does this have anything to do with why you always blush when I mention the library?” Hermione blushed again as Kurt motioned around them, “Is it Neville?”

“No,” Hermione’s smile reached from ear to ear, “it is not Neville Longbottom.”

“Shoot,” Kurt snapped his fingers, “I told him to ask you.”

“I know,” Hermione’s smile faltered for a moment, “Ron thought I was giving him the run around when I said I had a date, laughed about it for an hour.”

“Oh, my poor little Admetus,” Kurt clutched his chest.

“He asked Ginny Weasley afterwards,” Hermione shrugged, “she was glad to be asked.”

“Oh, my sweet Admetus,” Kurt clutched his chest again but this time there was an air of endearment to the action. Kurt schooled his features and stared deeply at Hermione, “If not Neville or either of the Anthonys; who, may I ask, are you taking to the Yule Ball?”

“You promise not to take the mickey out of me?” Hermione fidgeted nervously.

Kurt smiled, “When have I been known to react in any manner but with an air of grace?”

“Might I remind you how you reacted to finding out Scabbers was actually a middle-aged man?” Hermione crossed her arms with an indignant smirk.

“Pish posh,” Kurt shook his head, “Ronald had been talking out the side of his neck about my relationship with Cedric and I needed to put him in his place.”

“I’m not surprised you two still aren’t speaking,” Hermione shook her head, “the Kurt and Ron show is a complicated mess.”

“I’m speaking to him,” Kurt shrugged, “I just don’t think there are still grounds on which we might base a friendship.”

“Complicated mess,” Hermione giggled.

“Don’t deflect,” Kurt swatted her upper arm playfully, “tell me.”

“You promised not to make fun of me, keep that in mind,” Hermione leaned forward, her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke, “Viktor Krum.”

Kurt’s face lit up, “The Durmstrang champion?” Hermione nodded meekly, “shut the front door.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Hermione folded into herself for a moment, “other people won’t be as happy to hear it as you are.”

“On my life, I swear not to whisper a word of this to a soul,” Kurt smiled gleefully, “Where’d you meet him?”

“In the library,” Hermione blushed.

“I’ve been coming here for years and I have never met a boy worth dating,” Kurt crossed his arms, “but that explains the blush. How’d you meet him?”

“He asked me to help him find a book,” Hermione smiled, “that one on dragons you tried to show to Harry.”

“It’s been a thing that long and I’m just finding out?” Kurt’s jaw dropped and he shook his friend, “this is a new low, keeping secrets from your best friend.”

“Says the man who has secret meetings with Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione crossed her arms, “you have no leg to stand on.”

“I’m Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Kurt fixed an imaginary stray hair, “I always have a leg to stand on.”

“Besides,” Hermione blushed ever so slightly, “it didn’t become a ‘thing’ till after the first task. He found me in the library to thank me for my assistance and we got to… talking.”

“What’s he like?” Kurt smiled, “Is he charming and gentle like Cedric?”

“I think he’s more shy and sentimental,” Hermione giggled.

“Viktor Krum.” Kurt giggled, “he’s like a chocolate truffle; all hard muscles and biceps on the outside, shy and sentimental on the inside.”

“How would Cedric feel, hearing you speak of another man that way?”

“I think a little jealousy might do us some good,” Kurt smirked, "it would do us the world of good.”

“What would do you good?” Harry gave the pair a large smile as he and Ron slid into the seats across from Kurt and Hermione.

“Kurt was just telling me about how Tracey Davis has been asked to the Yule Ball three times,” Hermione smiled at her best friend, “Kurt thinks that if Cedric had to compete for his affection then he would be able to reap greater benefits for himself.”

“I don’t mean to be that person-” Kurt pursed his lips for a moment, “No, I totally do mean to be that person. Cedric Diggory is very lucky to have me and I think that if he thought that might be under threat then he would treat me even better than he already does.”

“You really are something all your own,” Harry shook his head with a chuckle, “We were wondering if we could ask you something.”

Kurt and Hermione exchanged a look, “How can we help you?”

“How do we talk to girls when they’re in a pack?” Harry gave a weak smile.

“We don’t give girl advice,” Hermione shook her head.

Kurt shrugged, “Can’t help with that.”

“You helped Finn get with the prettiest girl in school,” Ron sniped, “is it just us you don’t want to help?”

“Angelina Johnson is the prettiest girl in school,” Kurt and Hermione scolded in unison.

“Besides, Finn and Padma have been hot for each other since First Year,” Hermione shook her head, “we just needed to give him confidence.”

“And,” Kurt crossed his arms, “Finn brought us McDonald’s, Chocolate cake and later champagne. You didn’t even bring us a chocolate frog.”

“So you can’t help?” Harry batted his eyelashes.

“Fine,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “who are you thinking of asking?”

“I was thinking of asking Cho Chang,” Harry gave a shy smile, “if that’s fine with Kurt.”

“Kurt doesn’t mind,” Hermione shrugged, “so long as you keep her away from Cedric.”

“Yes but I heard from Fred, who heard from George, who heard from Angelina Johnson, who heard from Marietta Edgecomb,” Kurt gestured for them to come closer, “That Cho is going to the ball with Marcus Belby.”

“The stuttering fifth year Ravenclaw,” Ron exclaimed in shock.

Kurt nodded solemnly, “That one.”

“Why would she go with him?” Ron roared, “Harry’s a champion.”

“He’s cute,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Smart,” Hermione added.

“Shy.”

“Witty.”

“Tall.”

“And Harry hasn’t asked her,” Hermione added, “she doesn’t know he’s an option, I doubt she’ll dump Marcus just because someone more famous came along.”

“Who are you going to ask?” Kurt turned away from a disheartened Harry to Ron.

“Hadn’t thought about it,” Ron scrunched up his face, “Hermione, you’re a girl.”

“Where are you going with this?” Hermione raised a curious brow.

“Well,” Ron shrugged, “would you like the honour of going to the Yule Ball with me?”

“Ron,” Harry peered at his best friend in shock, “Hermione’s got a date, remember?”

“She just said that to get rid of Neville,” Ron shook his head confidently.

“Even if I had just said that to get rid of Neville, the way you asked me is in no way appropriate,” Hermione snapped angrily, “So I’ll say the same thing to you I said to Anthony Goldstein, I’ve thrown better away.”

Hermione got to her feet and stormed off, Ron chuckled, “Her loss, she’s turned me down and nobody else will ask her.”

“I’m sure she’d rather go alone than with an asshole like you,” Kurt snorted, “but then again, you were the sixth person to ask her.”

Kurt got up to follow Hermione out. As he was checking out both of their books, Hermione having left hers on the table, Harry Potter appeared at his side. Kurt waited for the boy to speak but he didn’t say anything, “How can I help you Mr Potter?”

“Tell Hermione that I apologise on Ron’s behalf,” Harry shook his head, “I don’t know what his deal is this year.”

“Right,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “This year.”

“Who can I ask?” Harry blurted out, he blushed as Kurt raised a quizzical brow, “I mean, you know who has been asked to the ball and who hasn’t been asked.”

Kurt smiled, “You really don’t have to go with somebody you’re romantically involved with, Neville’s taking Ginny and that’s purely plutonic. Maybe you can take a friend too,” Kurt looked over Harry’s shoulder, “someone who’ll be surprised to be asked and fun to be with.”

Harry followed Kurt’s line of vision and smiled, “Of course, good one devil.”

~0~

Kurt felt Cedric’s foot on his foot once more, “No, you’re not even trying.”

“I am too trying but this is hard to do in reverse,” Cedric furrowed his brow.

“You’re doing it forward,” Kurt untangled himself from his boyfriend’s arms, “I’m the one doing it backwards. If you don’t want to do this then we don’t have to, we could spend the night sitting down.”

“I really want to learn how to dance,” Cedric smiled and gently ran his index finger down the contours of Kurt’s face, “that way I can rub it in everyone’s face that I have the best date there, the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on and a god amongst men; nobody else can say that.”

“Somebody’s taking Hermione Granger,” Kurt giggled, “they’ll have all the same claims.”

“Hermione might be one of the greatest people alive but she’s not you,” Cedric lowered his hand to Kurt’s waist and took Kurt’s free hand in his own, “you two could be identical but she wouldn’t be you, in the same way you’ll never be her.” Cedric began to lead their dancing once more, “Front step, cha-cha cha. Back step, cha-cha cha. Side step, front step, back and turn.”

“You’re improving,” Kurt smiled broadly, laying his head on Cedric’s shoulder, “I’m so lucky to have someone like you in my life.”

“Am I not the lucky one?” Cedric grinned like the Cheshire cat as he twirled Kurt wildly around.

“Not even,” Kurt smiled gleefully as he used Cedric’s broad shoulders to balance as he fought off the dizziness induced by the twirling, “From the first day, I’ve been the lucky one.”

“How so? How are you the lucky one?” Cedric smiled as he fumbled a step, “tell me how that could be when everyday with you is one I where I grow into a better person. How am I not the luckiest man alive?”

“Because every moment spent with you is one where I can be,” Kurt took a deep breath, laying his head on Cedric’s chest and listening to the steady rhythm of the taller boy’s heartbeat, “vulnerably me. As if whatever pain exists in the depths of your being were a reflection of that in my own soul.”

“That’s called love,” Kurt listened to the modulation in Cedric’s breath as the bass vibrated through his chest to Kurt’s ear.

Kurt stood up straight, “everyone should be arriving soon.”

“Now you can see how I’m comparatively better than they all are,” Cedric nibbled on his ear playfully.

“Will the student soon become the master?” Kurt smiled, letting out a small giggle.

“Should we give you a minute?” Santana crossed her arms and cocked her hip.

“Because we could totally come back another time,” Dani teased with a broad grin on her pretty face.

“No,” Kurt untangled himself from Cedric, “you’re just on time.”

“Really?” Neville shifted nervously, “because it feels a lot like we entered right in the middle of an intimate moment.”

“Cedric and I are in the throes of young love,” Kurt shrugged, “all our moments are intimate.”

“No fighting that logic,” Cedric grinned, “as tempting as it might be.”

“Get a room,” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Be nice,” Neville nudged her with his shoulders, “or you’ll have me stepping on your feet all night when Kurt asks us to leave.”

“Nobody’s telling Santana to be nice,” Ginny pouted.

“Because everyone is afraid of her,” Neville hissed back.

Kurt chuckled, “All eyes on me, I’m going to demonstrate the footwork so pay close attention.”  Kurt began his demonstration of a simple waltz, “Forward, sideways, together, back.” Kurt ushered Neville forward, “Do it and I’ll follow. Remember, dance should be a song you can see with your eyes.”

“Forward, sideways, together, and back,” Neville repeated as they circled the dance floor, his eyes planted firmly on his feet.

“Look at your partner,” Kurt lifted Neville’s chin, “I’m sorry I encouraged you to ask Hermione to the Yule Ball without checking if she had a date first; I thought that if you were the early bird you be more likely to get the worm. Not that Hermione’s a prize.”

“I’m actually really happy that somebody’s asked her,” Neville grinned, taking a break from counting his steps.

“How so?” Kurt furrowed her brow, “I thought you liked her.”

“I do like her,” Neville assured Kurt, “She’s amazing but I don’t feel possessive of her, she one of my closest friends and she deserves to be happy more than anyone else.”

“Gee thanks,” Kurt giggled.

“It’s just,” Neville took a deep steadying breath, “You get a lot of recognition for everything you do but Hermione’s more of a behind the scenes girl; it’s great to know that somebody else sees her as I see her, sees her for who she really is.”

“Neville Christopher Admetus Longbottom,” Kurt smiled broadly at the gangly boy before him, “you are more amazing than even you know, you’ll be glad to hear that at least six other people see Hermione the way you see her.”

“Six?”

“There’s me and Harry but we hardly count,” Kurt smiled, “There’s Anthony Goldstein, Anthony Ricket, Terrence Boot, and Cedric.”

“I can’t take that much competition,” Neville shook his head.

“I’m going to take that as my queue to break this up,” Cedric smiled at Neville, “I can’t take the competition either.”

“Silly boy,” Kurt giggled as he was replaced by Ginny in Neville’s arms.

~0~

“You know,” Kurt put his hands on his hips, “When I got your summons, I thought you were going to show me your dress robes.” Kurt stepped over his boyfriend’s school uniform, “As intimate as we may be, I don’t think I’m ready to watch you take a bath.”

“The egg spoke to me,” Cedric didn’t even turn to look at Kurt as he spoke.

“What?” Kurt leaned over to where Cedric was clutching his golden dragon egg, “are you alright?”

“It sang and it was beautiful,” Cedric smiled at Kurt as if noticing him for the first time, “The egg sang to me.”

“You’re making no sense,” Kurt laid a firm hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, “let’s start at the beginning and move chronologically from there.”

“You have to be in the water to fully experience it,” Cedric gave Kurt a dopey smile.

Kurt chortled condescendingly, “Tempting. Are you on drugs?”

“No,” Cedric giggled, “Anthony just gave me the herbs of the earth to calm down.”

“Did you smoke said herbs?” Kurt crossed his arms.

“Yeah,” Cedric smiled even more broadly, “how did you know?”

“I know Larry,” Kurt shook his head, “I know all about lighting up a spliff.” Kurt leaned forward to feel the water in the large tub, as he’d assumed from the dissipated bubbles- the water was freezing. Kurt tapped the surface with his wand, “ _Calida_. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Toasty,” Cedric smiled up at him.

“Better isn’t it?” Kurt smiled at the boy, “Tell me what the egg said.”

“Get into the water,” Cedric smiled up at him, “it’s nice and warm like when you-”

“Would you like a drooble?” Kurt interrupted as he sat down behind Cedric.

“Do you have that cloud chocolate I like?” Cedric looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Lamingtons or Turkish Delight?” Kurt furrowed his brow, “Finn calls both by the same name.”

“The witch’s one,” Cedric leaned up to kiss Kurt’s cheek.

“Turkish Delight,” Kurt chuckled, “You’re in luck, I have some in my room.”

“Are you propositioning me Mr Hummel?”

“Am I ever not prepositioning you?” Kurt purred in response, “ _Venir_.” A small wooden chest appeared in Kurt’s hands, Kurt placed a powdery pink block of gelatinous goodness on Cedric’s tongue, “tell me what the egg said.”

“I’m not the singer you are,” Cedric blushed as he spoke with a mouth full of Turkish Delight.

Kurt grinned, “I’ll allow it.”

“ _Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground_ ,” Cedric’s voice was a low croon, the boy was tone deaf but it wasn’t completely unpleasant; Kurt suspected his affections made him biased. He watched in amazement as Cedric sang the clue, “ _An hour long you’ll have to look, to recover what we took_.”

Kurt squeezed his boyfriend’s cheek, “only ever sing for me.”

“Now you sing for me,” Cedric smiled broadly.

“You’re the one on drugs, not me,” Kurt blushed.

“That one from the world cup,” Cedric beamed.

“I thought you didn’t like that one,” Kurt teased, “besides, I like to leave Ella Fitzgerald to Ella Fitzgerald when I’m sober.”

“Sing me something pretty,” Cedric laid his head on Kurt’s lap, wetting his slacks.

Kurt cleared his throat, “ _Are you certain when you say you care?_

_Do you love me with some love to spare?_

_I’m gonna ease right into our little love affair,_

_So be certain when you say you care._ ”

Kurt hummed into the boy’s ear, “that was so pretty.”

“You’re pretty,” Kurt countered, knowing that asking the boy about the clue now would be a waste of a beautiful moment.

~0~

Kurt stood in the Gryffindor common room with Denis Creevey bouncing excitedly at his side, “Is everyone gone?” Hermione called down from the top of the stairs with a nervous croak.

“Yes,” Kurt giggled, “just Denis and I are left, at my insistence the juniors have all gone to watch the procession.”

“Okay,” Kurt could hear Hermione gulp from where he stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to the Girls dormitories. Hermione stood at the top of the stairs in a black floor length sheath dress with a sequence grey sleeveless bodice, her hair was sleek and loosely knotted at the top of her neck; she was dressed very simply but with a subtle air of old Hollywood glamour, most importantly it felt like Hermione- modestly exceptional. She gave him a shy smile, “I put it together myself. You don’t hate it, do you?”

“I’m completely in love with this,” Kurt took a deep breath, “if it were at all possible, you would have just turned me straight.”

“My crush on you has increased tenfold,” Denis boasted.

“Thank you Denis,” Hermione giggled, she then turned and eyed Kurt’s cloak suspiciously, “What are you wearing?”

“I wanted you to be the first to see me,” Kurt untied his cloak and let it fall off his shoulders. Hermione gasped and he was glad to know that despite always looking great, he could still out do himself. Kurt proudly fixed his cross bowtie, the one part of his outfit that wasn’t strictly traditional. Kurt twirled on the spot and his deep green and navy kilt lifted slightly from the momentum. Kurt smoothed down the golden buttons on his traditional black cropped blazer before speaking again, “Do you like it?”

“The kilt’s a little short,” Hermione teased as she grazed the space between the hem of his kilt and the top of his white knee-highs, “but that makes it that much more of a Kurt Elizabeth Hummel masterpiece, I like the fur pouch especially.”

“It’s called a sporran,” Kurt beamed as they exited the portrait hole, “and this particular tartan is called a _black watch_.”

“Honey,” Hermione grabbed his hand as they climbed down the stairs, “save it for Oprah.”

Kurt swished his fly plaid so it hit Hermione gently on the side of her head, “You are my Oprah.”

“Watch it with that,” Hermione scowled at him, “or I’ll steal your brooch and you’ll lose that piece of arbitrary fabric draped on your shoulder.”

“It’s traditional,” Kurt rolled his eyes, he turned to Hermione as they were one corner from the grand staircase that led to the procession, “you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Hermione shrugged. The pair came around the corner to a sea of junior students who had come to observe, in that sea they could see the four champions; Fleur Delacour was with Roger Davis, a seventh year Ravenclaw prefect and Headboy; Harry stood chatting to his date, Luna Lovegood; and the remaining two watched in awe as their dates descended the grand staircase together.

“Hermoninny,” Viktor Krum smiled ever so slightly before kissing Hermione’s hand, “You look exquisite.”

“Thank you,” Hermione blushed, “You look dashing yourself. This is my best friend Kurt.”

“Hermione’s been hiding you well,” Kurt smiled as they shook hands, “I believe we’ve met before, if only in passing.”

“Yes, the eve that the champions were selected and again on the morning of the first task,” Viktor smiled, his English came slowly and thickly accented in a low gravely voice, “Hermoninny speaks of you constantly, I feel like I know you well already.”

“Terrible things only I’m sure,” Kurt wagged a brow at the boy, receiving a shy giggle and a clap on the shoulder in response.

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Cedric smiled broadly in a black tuxedo, “You take my breath away and give me reason to keep breathing all at once.”

“Cedric Diggory,” Kurt smiled back at his boyfriend who was clad in the spiffiest tuxedo Kurt had ever seen, “the more time I spend with you, the luckier I feel. To have you in my life is the gift that keeps giving.”

They embraced each other and just before they could kiss, Professor McGonagall appeared in emerald green dress robes, “There will be time for that later, you two.” She gave him and Cedric a pointed look, “but now, it is time for the four champions and their dates to lead into the ball and open the dancing.”

“We have to dance?” Harry’s eyes shot wide open, “I thought that was optional.”

“Don’t worry,” Luna smiled broadly and winked at the boy, “I got you.”

“Will you still love me tomorrow?”  Cedric whispered in his ear, “If I embarrass myself, I mean.”

“If you don’t embarrass yourself then you won’t have to find out,” Kurt teased as they linked elbows.

The four champions lined up in the order they had placed in the first task, the large doors leading into the great hall opened and they led into the large room to the sounds of an elegant orchestra waltz. Kurt was floored by what Professor Flitwick had done with the place, it was truly a winter wonderland; there were elegant ice sculpture that doubled as cider fountains, white organza draping from floor to ceiling, crystal chandeliers, and bouquets of white chrysanthemums, hydrangeas and carnations all around the room.

As the champions entered arm in arm with their dates, there was some clear shock to Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood, but the one that threw everyone for a loop was Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum. People not only gaped at the dolled up Hermione, the odd boy receiving a reproachful nudge from their date, but at the idea that they had walked by the natural beauty and failed to pay her a moment’s thought, and here she was in the arms of one of the most famous and strapping young men.

Kurt could only smile, for people were finally seeing what he had long seen; Hermione Granger was multi-faceted. Yes, she was a book worm and an over achieving type-A but she was also one of the most beautiful people he knew, inside and out.

Cedric held out an inviting hand as they stood at the centre of the dance floor, their cue sounded and the pair began to waltz merrily. The first people to join the champions were Professor Dumbledore and Madame Maxime, and Professor McGonagall and Don Karkaroff. As Kurt danced happily in Cedric’s arms, he noticed Neville and Ginny join in on the dancing whilst Luna led Harry around the dance floor. Kurt looked up at Cedric, thinking about how perfect this moment was, here in each other’s arms as they danced happily, as if they were the only people in the great hall.

The waltz was followed by a more contemporary and jazzy tune with a distinctly Iberian tone, the faint hearted cleared the dance floor and only the skilled and the brave remained. Kurt moved to leave the dance floor but Cedric held him firmly in place, Kurt raised a curious brow, “Feeling brave?”

“And eager to carry innocence with me into oblivion,” Cedric smirked broadly.

“I’m sure that’s the first time I’ve been accused of being innocent,” Kurt chuckled as they began to move slowly and sultrily in time with the tango music that filled the great hall.

“I’m sure it will be the last,” Cedric chuckled, “You dance as if you’ve laid with the devil.”

“Mr Diggory,” Kurt wagged a brow as the third pass came round, “is that an accusation or a proposition?”

“Maybe a bit of both,” Cedric shrugged, “Maybe a bit of neither.”

“Don’t get fresh with me young man,” Kurt raised a finger for the sliver of a moment before moving it to Cedric’s waste and beginning to lead their dancing.

“You want me to find out the answer to that question?” Cedric grumbled as he failed terribly at following Kurt’s lead, “Don’t you?”

Kurt dipped Cedric and grinned villainously as he held him suspended for a moment, “maybe it’s not that I’ve lain with the devil but that I’m wrestling with the devil within.”

Kurt raised Cedric back to standing and they stood chest to chest as the tango faded into a merry foxtrot. Their dancing was interrupted by a very brave man, “May I steal Mr Hummel away from you for just one dance?”

“Of course headmaster,” Cedric bowed, “I’ll go get something to drink, maybe talk to Pot- Harry.”

Kurt smiled at his boyfriend before turning to the headmaster, “Professor Dumbledore, I’ve been meaning to speak to you.”

“You have?” Professor Dumbledore quirked a brow, “you usually just show up in my office when you have something to say, you also shout in these meetings and make threats.”

“I’m not the one who’s out of character here,” Kurt pursed his lips, “and it’s for that reason that I’ve taken on a new project.”

“Might I ask what this new project might be?” the older man quirked a brow.

“You wouldn’t get an answer even if you did ask,” Kurt smiled.

“What role am I supposed to play in this project of yours?”

“I need for you to follow the advice of a wise man and ‘let things play out, for the time being at least’.”

Professor Dumbledore gaped at him for a split second before schooling his features, “shall I cast the memory aside.”

“You can trust me,” Kurt smiled, “at present your interests are my interests.”

“Have I ever told you of this lovely bathroom on the seventh floor I once used by chance, late one night?” Professor Dumbledore raised a quizzical brow, “it was simply exquisite, but I’ve never seen it during waking hours so I’ve since concluded that it was a dream.”

“My dreams are more interesting,” Kurt shrugged, “Professor Trelawney would be so happy to hear about them.”

“What is your divination paper on?”

“Tyromancy, the use of cheese to see the future,” Kurt shrugged, “you don’t want to know about my dreams?”

“As I recall, you banned me from asking about your dreams,” Professor Dumbledore shrugged, “I think it was after some shouting, you only described them as nightmares.”

“As is fit to call them, now that I understand them better I am able surmise that they are not my dreams,” Professor Dumbledore was shocked by Kurt’s confession, “I am not in any of these dreams nor am I linked to any of them, I’ve been robbed of the ability to dream by synchronicity that transcends space and possibly time.”

“Oh wow,” Professor Dumbledore stopped dancing and bowed, “that does sound nightmarish, auf Wiedersehen.”

“Auf Wiedersehen Professor,” Kurt bowed as well. Before Kurt could recompose himself, Harry grabbed him and started dancing with him by force, “What is happening?”

“I think your boyfriend just prepositioned me,” Harry whispered.

“What?” Kurt furrowed his brow, “what did he say to you?”

“He invited me to take a bath in the prefect’s bathroom,” Harry shuddered.

“And he told you to bring your golden egg,” Kurt rolled his eyes when Harry nodded, “that’s not a come on, that was him advising you on how to deal with your golden egg without breaking the rules.”

“That makes more sense,” Harry nodded, “So, Hermione and Viktor Krum.”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, waiting for a misstep on the green eyed boy’s part.

“Ron looks like he’s about to die,” Harry chuckled.

“How did he end up with Pavarti?” Kurt furrowed his brow, “I thought Dean was going to ask her.”

“He did,” Harry nodded, “she said no, apparently she got a prophecy that she would go to the ball with a champion and was holding out for me or Viktor, when neither of us had asked her last night she asked Ron.”

Kurt giggled, “maybe in an alternate universe. I have a boyfriend who requires my attention.”

Kurt walked to the table where Cedric was sitting beside Viktor and Hermione, “Kurt.” Cedric smiled, “we were just talking about you.”

“Were you?” Kurt smiled shyly, “what about me were you discussing?”

“We were telling Viktor about you are balancing having a close friend and a boyfriend as champions,” Hermione explained, “it required a little back story.”

“They were telling me about how you and Harry fought a basilisk and an evil wizard together,” Viktor explained excitedly, “saved little red haired girl’s life. Fought dementors, saved Hermowninny’s life.”

“Hermione likes to downplay her role in all of this,” Kurt blushed, “she’s probably the only reason any of us are alive but I came here to steal my boyfriend back for one more dance before dinner is served.”

“We should go dance as well,” Hermione smiled at Viktor, “Let’s not let Neville and Ginny have all the fun.”

The four of them joined Neville and Ginny on the dance floor, which was now being dominated by Hagrid and Madame Maxime. Not solely due to their large size but more so because of how mismatched they were; Madame Maxime was a tall and elegant lady, polished in every way, and Hagrid was more rough around the edges- a testimony to how opposites attract. Kurt had never attested to that theory, mostly because of how similar he and Cedric were, their main differences were in their opinion of quidditch and that Cedric was more laid back than Kurt was. Kurt smiled at Hermione as they made eye contact for a moment, she smiled back and in that moment he knew the night was perfect in every way.

When they sat down for dinner, the champions were seated at the head table with the three headmasters, Ludo Bagman and surprisingly, Percy Weasley.

“Percy,” Kurt smiled devilishly, “what are you doing here? Does somebody need some photocopying done?”

Hermione, Harry, Luna and Cedric giggled, “Be nice Kurt.” Hermione spoke with false sternness, “maybe he’s been sent with a message.”

Viktor turned to Hermione with a furrowed brow, “I don’t get it.” He was silent as Hermione whispered an explanation to him, when Hermione was done he nodded and chuckled heartily.

Percy, with his nose turned up at them, spoke in a sharp and falsely level voice, “are you quite done?”

“No, I have one,” Harry grinned, “could you pass a message to Hedwig when you go back to your office in the owlery?”

Viktor raised an open palm, “would you like some bird seed?”

There was a round of laughter all around the table, much to Percy’s chagrin, “I’ll have you know that I’ve been promoted to Mr Crouch’s Assistant.”

“What were you before?”

“I was an administrative assistant and now I’m his assistant,” Percy scoffed.

“That doesn’t sound like a promotion,” Kurt shook his head, “did you get a raise?”

“Well,” Percy scratched the back of his neck, “no.”

“Does he know your name now?” Harry chided the older boy.

“Well, no.”

“Do you still get Coffee and write memos?” Hermione tried.

“Yes, but-”

“That doesn’t sound like a promotion to me,” Kurt shook his head.

“Sounds like you’re still doing the job of an owl or a few simple enchantments,” Luna shrugged, “definitely not a promotion.”

“I now have proxy to fill in for Mr Crouch in his absence,” Percy smirked, “and I can vote on his behalf, not at the Wizengamot but during the Triwizard tournament. Like tonight, he’s at home ill.”

The group of six huddled for a moment before all nodding their agreement, “still not a promotion.” Viktor shrugged, “sounds like he’s letting you do tasks he doesn’t want to do and slapping a new tittle on it.”

Before Percy had a chance to say anything more, Ludo Bagman cut him off by forcing himself between the elder Weasley and the Champions, “Evening Champions and dates, having a smash?”

“Yes,” Kurt spoke monotonously, his tone drenched in sarcasm, “we’re having a really rad night.”

“Far out,” Ludo grinned, missing the facetious nature of Kurt’s response, “Having any luck with those golden eggs?” Cedric, Fleur and Viktor nodded, Harry shook his head, “What about making plans as to how to tackle the task?”

“I am ready,” Fleur nodded, her eyes sharp and her competitive nature evident in the way she eyed her competition, “the task could be tomorrow and I would be ready to go.”

“I need a little more time,” Cedric and Viktor admitted in chorus, Kurt and Hermione exchanged a look of amusement.

“What about you Potter?” Ludo wagged his brow at the dark haired boy.

“It’s coming along,” Harry muttered between spoonfuls of his split pea soup.

“Good to hear,” Ludo smiled nervously and surveyed the area around him, “Good to hear indeed, I’m going to go to the little wizards’ room.”

“May I be excused would suffice,” Madame Maxime sneered.

“Quite right,” Kurt echoed, “We don’t need the intimate details of your life.”

“Or any detail at all,” Hermione grumbled with her nose scrunched up in distaste, “least of all when we’re trying to eat.”

“Do tell Ms Granger,” Professor Dumbledore turner to face her, “How is SPEW coming along?” her leaned closer to Don Karkaroff, “You know Ms Granger is the brightest witch of the age.”

“Ah, yes,” Roger Davis smiled, “I’ve heard of this project that was started by Ms Granger and Mr Hummel extensively from Professor Burbage’s new alternate, Comrade Flamingcough.”

“Flaming Cough?” Fleur knitted her brow.

“There was a student with Dragon pox in the infirmary when she was forming the persona, be glad you didn’t witness the seizure that preceded it,” Kurt explained, “back to the dazzling Hermione Granger.”

Hermione blushed for a moment, “we’re off to a steady start, due to the delicate nature of the situation and our desire for sustainable change we have been quite meticulous in mapping out our journey to elvish freedom-”

“Elvish freedom?” Percy scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione glared at the boy, “but did anybody ask for your opinion?”

“Burn,” Viktor coughed with a chuckle.

Percy pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose in horror, “Why I never-”

“Didn’t think so,” Hermione turned back to the headmaster, who had an impressed smirk on his face, “As I was say-”

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Professor Dumbledore smiled broadly.

“We started our plan by visiting the Hogwarts’ kitchens,” Hermione explained, “we felt that house elves who worked in moderate to good conditions would be more open to receiving freedom but we were faced with resistance, we’ve since made an ally who liaisons with the masses on our behalf.”

“A house elf ally?” Madame Maxime was shocked by the notion.

“Yes,” Kurt answered on Hermione’s behalf, “Dobby, a free elf. It was a matter of refining his familiarity with his letters and then negotiating a fair compensation for his services.”

“Wait,” Harry raised his hands, “Dobby, Dobby the house elf? The one I know?” Kurt, Hermione and the Headmaster nodded in unison, “Where ever did you find him?”

“He works in the Hogwarts’ kitchens,” Hermione explained.

“As a free elf,” Kurt elaborated, “the beginning of an era.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry beamed.

“He’s so lovely and kind,” Luna affirmed, “Quite sharp as well, he took to his letters really fast.”

“That’s Dobby for you,” Harry smiled from ear to ear, “I should go see him.”

“That’s nice Harry Potter,” Luna patted him on the shoulder, “but I think Hermione should carry on with her story.”

“Thank you Luna,” Hermione smiled broadly but Luna’s attention had turned back to playing with the layers of white organza that made up her dress robes, “We’ve surveyed the house elves and are now more familiar with their narrative of their plight. We’ve since incorporated that into our plan, there’ll be an article about it in The Quibbler.”

“The what?” Cedric furrowed his brow.

“The magazine I give you every month,” Kurt hissed at his boyfriend, “the editor, Xenophilius Lovegood, is Luna’s father. We’ve had this discussion before, multiple times.”

“Your father is Xenophilius Lovegood?” Madame Maxime beamed at Luna.

“Oui Madame,” Luna bowed her head slightly.

“I once read his book, _Going Fuzzy and Other Side Effects_.”

“I read that one,” Roger Davis announced, “I heard the guy who wrote it was quite… eccentric.”

“Eccentric is what boring people call people with personality,” Viktor shrugged nonchalantly.

“Touché,” Roger chuckled.

“Hold up,” Kurt gaped at Luna, “Your father is a published author?”

“Yes,” Luna shrugged, “he was a lot more popular in foreign markets, Flourish & Blotts wanted to market it as speculative fiction and he wouldn’t have it.”

Madame Maxime looked around with a false smile on her face as if to ask what the book was, if not speculative fiction, she settled on, “Oh, I see.”

For the remaining courses of their banquet dinner, conversation seemed to be dominated by the Champions’ dates. Due to the fact that Roger Davis and Luna Lovegood were both Ravenclaws, and both Kurt and Hermione had almost been placed in the same house, it was easy for the four of them to keep a conversation going due to many shared interests; whilst they enjoyed their dinner the conversation moved from politics, to academics, to the fact they’d have fared better in the tournament than their dates, and even their opinions on Professor Burbage’s new alternate.

When dinner was over, three of the four champions returned to the dance floor; Luna and Harry moved to sit with Ron as Pavarti had abandoned him for a Durmstrang gentleman who was more willing to dance with her. Kurt paid little mind to the sulking red head as he and Cedric went back to dancing.

“Oh my word, oh my word!” Ginny grabbed Kurt by the shoulders, separating the pair, “Oh my word.”

“What’s wrong with you Ginny?” Kurt glared at her excitement, “Are you possessed by an evil overlord again?”

Her face fell, “what? No.”

“Then why are you touching me,” Kurt glared at her hands so hard she retracted her hands.

“The Weird Sisters are about to go on!” Ginny squealed excitedly.

Kurt turned to Cedric with a small smile after dismissing Ginny to spread her cheer elsewhere, “Cedric, aren’t you a moderately enthusiastic fan of that band?”

“I practically hate them compared to how you feel about Roberta Flack,” Cedric teased as he nibbled on Kurt’s earlobe.

“Mr Diggory, Mr Hummel,” Professor McGonagall scolded, “Keep it PG.”

“There goes setting the night to music,” Kurt chuckled.

Hermione came up and hugged him from behind, “Viktor and I were planning on going up to the Astronomy tower for a little drink,” she smacked his thigh suggestively when she said the word ‘drink’, “Would you two care to join us?”

“Sounds like fun to me,” Cedric crossed his arms as he stared at the pair.

“What will we be drinking?” Kurt smiled.

Hermione smiled broadly, “it’s a gin night.”

“Good,” Kurt nodded, “wouldn’t want to smell too strongly of alcohol when we see our parents tomorrow morning.”

Hermione stuck out her tongue, “I’ll go see who wants to join us.”

“You can take your hands off my hipflask now,” Kurt shook his head, removing Hermione’s hands from his thighs, “You have me, no need to convince me.”

“I might get jealous,” Cedric grinned.

“Might you call the action…” Kurt paused, placing Cedric’s hand where Hermione’s had just been, “tempting.”

“Ever so tempting,” Cedric moved his hand to a more chaste location, “but as the muggles say, lead us not into temptation.”

“Only some muggles say that,” Kurt giggled.

“Let’s play pretend then,” Cedric teased.

Kurt giggled, “Under normal circumstances, only Hermione is allowed to match her wits with mine but you’re so damn cute when you do it.”

“Cuter than Hermione?” Cedric quirked a brow.

Kurt shook his head, “don’t set yourself up for failure, if I’ve learned anything from being in direct competition with Hermione Granger, it’s that you always come in second place.”

“Not even when I do this?” Cedric leaned in and kissed Kurt.

“Careful,” Kurt chided the taller boy, “Professor McGonagall might see us.”

“Let her see.”

“Just as you have your boundaries,” Kurt put a finger on the boy’s lips, “I have mine, Professor McGonagall and I share a relationship based on mutual admiration and respect.”

“Suppose you’re ready to rip me a new one as well?”

Kurt turned to see an angry Ron standing behind him with arms crossed, Kurt raised a curious brow, “What on earth do you mean?”

“Your friend Hermione just told me to mind my own business when I was looking out for her best interest,” Ron stood with his arms crossed expectantly.

“I don’t think Hermione needs anyone to look out for her best interests,” Kurt giggled, “that was your first mistake.” Kurt untangled himself from Cedric and squared up with Ronald, “Your second mistake was to think that I had any thoughts of you or to share with you.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into the pair of you but your letting these boys go to your heads,” Ron spat.

Kurt stopped for a moment, “or maybe you’re letting the jealousy you feel as a result of not having any intimate relationship got to your head.”

“Well,” Kurt gave a small smile as Ron’s words died in his throat.

“I don’t think you should join us for drinks,” Kurt turned his nose up at Ron, “I don’t think you’d be welcome in your current state.” Kurt moved to leave, “I really think if you’d put more effort into those robes they’d have a lovely vintage feel to them, can I have them when you’re done?”

Ron eyed him in bewilderment, “sure.”


	12. Chapter 12

Kurt dropped onto the bench with his arms crossed, he exchanged pleasantries with Luna and Hermione who had been chatting animatedly on the bench overlooking the Black Lake. Kurt tried to get an idea of where the conversation was going, when he realised that they were discussing Mr Lovegood’s novel he couldn’t help smiling; it was Kurt and Hermione’s reading assignment for the Christmas break.

“Discussing _Going Fuzzy and Other Side Effects_?” Kurt grinned, “I’ve finished reading my copy and I have some thoughts to share.”

“Before we do that,” Hermione lowered her voice and looked around, “Have you seen Cedric yet?”

“No,” Kurt furrowed his brow, he had never known Hermione to put gossip over books, “not since the morning I left for home. I wanted to see my friends first.”

“So he hadn’t seen Rita Skeeter’s most recent work of what was once known as journalism,” Luna pointed out with a shake of her head.

“She can’t still be writing about us,” Kurt shook his head, “she was banned from the school grounds.”

“It’s really not stopping her,” Hermione bowed her head.

Luna giggled, “And she was writing about you before she was allowed on the school grounds.”

“What’s she written this time?”

“She claims that I’ve broken Harry’s heart by leaving him for Viktor in a desperate attempt at elevating my status,” Hermione shuddered angrily, “As if I care any for societal standing.”

“It apparently explains why Harry has saddled himself with the daughter of a known mad man and disgraced ministry official,” Luna let out a loud laugh and clapped merrily, “I’m a rebound girl.” Luna seemed proud of this title and seemed to wear it as a badge of honour, along with the insults toward her father, “But apparently that hasn’t stopped Harry from wanting you, as the two of you are pictured dancing, despite being the confessed son of crazed mass murderer Sirius Black.”

“So mostly drivel?”

“No,” Hermione’s voice was sharp, “she also wrote about Hagrid being a half giant, she makes use of terrible stereotypes and portrays him as a crazed lunatic who illegally breeds dangerous creatures.”

Kurt tried his hardest not to nod at the last part, “She lays the character assassination on thick as a means but succeeds by hiding it behind a veil of half-truths.”

“How do you mean?” Hermione’s voice went sharp.

“You really are seeing Viktor but the reasons are different,” Kurt pursed his lips, “the fact that there are witnesses to you and Harry making out in the library in second year is the bit of truth.”

“I remember witnessing it,” Luna grinned like the Cheshire cat, “it was hot.”

“Me? Make out with Harry Potter?” Hermione’s grew to the size of saucers, “When did I make out with Harry Potter?”

“Finn and Neville did it while you were trying to sell your soul to Draco,” Kurt gave a sinister grin.

“In my defence it was before puberty ruined him,” Hermione bowed her head.

“My statement stands,” Luna smiled.

“In Luna’s case, her father really is a former ministry official but the split was amicable,” Luna nodded her agreement, “I danced with Harry whilst we discussed the second clue but it was nothing more than plutonic, the fact that there were once rumours on our end as well gives that thread some validity.”

“Yes,” Hermione supressed a giggle, “I’m sorry but I keep picturing Harry leaning up to kiss Kurt, on the very tips of his toes.”

“Harry Potter climbing you like a mountain,” Luna snorted.

Kurt blushed, “You can laugh now but a short man has other uses.”

“Oh behave,” Hermione swatted his arm.

“You started it,” Kurt squeaked.

“Well, now I’m ending it,” Hermione schooled her features, “Where is the truth in what she wrote about Hagrid?”

Kurt took a deep breath because he knew this would be the hardest part for them to receive, “Hagrid is a half-giant, and he did try to raise; a dragon in his kitchen, a three headed dog in the castle, an acromantuala under his bed and there is also the matter of the Blast-Ended Skrewts. But that doesn’t change that even I can make him cry.”

“You make plenty of people cry,” Hermione tilted her head condescendingly.

“I see what Kurt means,” Luna nodded, “Hagrid wears his emotions on his sleeve.”

“You’d swear he’s never heard _Don’t Cry Out Loud_ by Melissa Manchester,” Kurt shook his head, “A valuable lesson for all to receive.”

“He probably hasn’t heard that song,” Hermione shook her head, “considering it’s from the eighties and he doesn’t receive muggle radio stations on the wireless.”

“Well,” Kurt’s smiled grew, “Hagrid isn’t exactly a spring chicken, I’m sure the eighties are well within his lifetime.”

“I’m surprised he isn’t greyer,” Luna shrugged.

Kurt giggled, “I think it’s hair dye.”

“You two are the worst,” Hermione giggled.

“No,” Kurt turned to her with a smirk, “Do you know who the worst is? You are.”

“ME?” Hermione shrieked.

The pair nodded, “You still haven’t told us what happened with Viktor Krum after the Astronomy tower.”

“I think we all agree that the astronomy tower was a big mistake,” Kurt waited for a show of hands, “it’s unanimous.”

“What were we thinking?” Hermione groaned.

“It’s beautiful up there and it was the place where we were least likely to bump into a teacher,” Kurt shrugged, “who knew Cedric was going to introduce us to cannabis?”

“That was quite the experience,” Luna grinned, “Sort of like Tej.”

“Don’t you mention Tej to me,” Kurt crossed his arms angrily.

“What happened to you?” Luna quirked a brow, “Last time I saw you, you and Cedric were making out on the floor.”

“We passed out like that,” Kurt bowed his head slightly, “I woke up the following morning and went home.”

“You slept in the Astronomy tower,” Hermione supressed a giggle which caused it to escape as a guffaw.

Luna shook her head, “Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t think so,” Kurt giggled, “although I did bump into Terry Boot on my way back to my room.”

“What did you say to him?”

“Nadolig Llawen” Kurt blushed.

Hermione gave him a sideways glance, “You said Merry Christmas to him in Welsh?”

“I was going through a lot,” Kurt couldn’t help laughing, “it was Christmas day and he’s Welsh.”

“I want you to know that I’m judging you,” Luna placed a light as air hand on his shoulder, “judging you so much. It may come from a place of love but it’s judgement all the same.”

“Thank you for that Luna,” Kurt gave a tight lipped smile.

“I would be judging you as well but I woke up in the common room,” Hermione gave a tight lipped smile.

Luna leered at her, “We’re going to leave out the stubble burn Viktor gave you?”

“I was going to bring it up at a more appropriate time,” Hermione blushed, “Like maybe Kurt’s funeral, when he was too busy being dead to judge me.”

“I want you to know,” Kurt threw his arm over Hermione’s shoulder, “I will never be too dead to judge you.”

“Comforting,” Hermione nodded.

“You have to tell me everything,” Kurt shook her playfully, “like now.”

“He invited me for a tour of the Durmstrang ship but I’m not that kind of girl,” Hermione gulped, dug in her pocket for a moment and then held out her fist to Kurt, “I might have pickpocketed you, we went to the Dark Arts classroom instead.”

Kurt’s mouth fell open, “the only reason we ended up spending the night in the astronomy tower was because I couldn’t find this key.”

“We made out a little and then we had a conversation,” Hermione schooled her features, “Viktor did all the talking.”

“Something about that classroom makes people ever so talkative,” Kurt giggled.

“I don’t get it,” Luna furrowed her brow.

“You’ll get it when you’re older,” Kurt and Hermione chorused, then they exchanged a look and laughed.

“Whatever,” Luna rolled her eyes, “how was the miracle of child birth?”

“I thought it would help me understand the world better,” Kurt shook his head, “but now all I want to know is why people would put themselves through that, you’d think humanity would be extinct by now. Finn was right, it did look like a demon tearing its way out of hell.”

“I think I just became barren,” Hermione exclaimed as she turned a queer shade of green.

“I second the motion,” Luna shook her head.

“When smart girls like you don’t have children, that’s how we end up with the likes of Pansy Parkinson and company,” Kurt exclaimed, “if we don’t have children then the dumb-dumbs win.”

“I thought you were being nicer to the Slytherins,” Hermione furrowed her brow.

“Kurt being nice doesn’t suddenly make them smart,” Luna scolded, “if they are as dumb as bricks then Kurt being nice to them doesn’t change that fact.”

“You’re both right,” Kurt nodded to himself, “Pansy is smart, she’s fourth best after Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini in our Slytherin year. Daphne Greengrass is dumb as bricks.”

“Tracey’s Transfiguration marks are almost as good as mine,” Hermione nodded, “she’s on par with Mandy Bracklehurst.”

“I’m just glad that I prefer the company of women or the matter of me being the only male in our year’s top five might have intimidated me,” Kurt’s smile turned wicked, “it’s cute how Anthony Goldstein thought he could dump us and stay in the top five.”

“I still think it’s weird that you would say he dumped ‘us’,” Hermione gave a malevolent giggle, “I’m the only Gryffindor, if that helps any.”

“It really doesn’t,” Kurt gave her a pointed look but his breath caught, “I see another Gryffindor over your shoulder, might I be excused for a moment?”

“Whatever,” Luna rolled her eyes, “You never loved us anyway. Go to your Ron.”

Kurt giggled and got up from where he was sitting, he closed the distance between the other boy and himself in a few large strides, lest his pray get away. Kurt smiled broadly and pushed his index finger into the boy’s chest, “I know what’s wrong with you.”

“Excuse me?” Ron furrowed his brow.

“What I mean is that I figured out why your behaviour has been gradually degenerating over the years,” Kurt resisted giving himself a pat on the back, “it’s a rather brilliant hypothesis, if I do say so myself.”

“My behaviour has not been degenerating,” Ron crossed his arms defensively.

“Oh yes, it has,” Kurt nodded aggressively, if it were possible to do such a thing, “You have gotten angrier and angrier every year for no apparent reason. First at Hermione and I, now at Harry, and I know why.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Kurt beamed, “do you want to hear it?”

“Try me.”

“You’re insecure,” Kurt smiled, “it makes perfect sense! Initially you were antagonistic toward just Hermione and I because we were smart but then Harry and I did the Chamber of Secrets thing together. Thereafter I started getting famous, dating, being better liked than you by your parents. Harry and Hermione were on the up as well; Hermione dated Anthony and then Viktor, she was worthy of Rita Skeeter’s attention and she started getting hot. While Harry might not have gotten hot, he still got to date all the Ravenclaw girls and become a Triwizard champion.” Kurt took a deep breath, “and left out in the cold was you, without stellar grades, a love interest or any role to fulfil. It got cold in our shadows and instead of trying to match our awesome, you decided to try and tear us down.”

Ron crossed his arms, “Why does my supposed insecurity have to be about you?”

“Most things are but this surprisingly isn’t,” Kurt shrugged, “we’re just present. We remind you of Bill, Percy, sometimes Fred and George, and- if you mention this to anyone I will deny it- Charlie.”

“What is with you and Charlie,” Ron Furrowed his brow.

“I don’t enjoy his arrogance,” Kurt shook his head.

Ron tilted his head to further highlight his confusion, “but you’re arrogant.”

“Yes but I’m sexy arrogant,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “your brother is just plain arrogant.”

“Whatever,” Ron shrugged, “So, what do I do about my insecurities?”

“You could get over them and choose to love yourself the way you are,” Kurt shuddered, “or you could be awesome instead.”

“Which one is easier?”

“Being awesome,” Kurt laid a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, “it might seem like a lot of hard work but that’s because you haven’t tried to love you, ‘you’ is a very hard person to love. You have to love yourself twenty-four hours a day, being awesome is only about sixteen hours of work a day.”

Ron’s voice was small, “Do you have insecurities?”

“Of course,” Kurt chuckled, “everyone has them.” Kurt took a dep steadying breath, “mine are centred around my father; when Finn and Carole first came into our lives I thought I’d lose him to Finn because they had more in common but I got over that, When Harley was born I was sure everything would change and he’d love her more because she was his biological child and I still feel like there’ll come a day when he doesn’t have a place for me in his life. As a result, I am so awesome that none of the others can compete.”

“Wow,” that was all Ron could manage.

“Hermione doesn’t think she’s pretty enough,” Kurt laid a hand on Ron’s forearm, “Luna’s afraid her eccentricities prevent her from making friends, Harry’s afraid that his identity was predetermined by an event he can’t remember, Professor Dumbledore is-” Kurt realised that he’d been told that one in confidence, “is insecure about stuff too.”

“What about Cedric?” Ron giggled.

“Cedric is afraid of disappointing the people he loves,” Kurt’s smile faltered, “because they might take their love away.”

“So everyone has insecurities just like we all have a form for boggarts to assume?” Ron smiled.

“Yes,” Kurt gave him a warm smile, “So stop being an ass about yours, nobody else can see them but you. Ever hear of hiding your feeling?”

“I can do that,” Ron said, more for his own benefit than that of Kurt, as he was dragged back to the greater group, “Hi guys, sorry for being weird.”

“Whatever,” Hermione and Luna chorused with an eye roll.

“Now,” Kurt looked the other three in the eye one at a time, “where is Harry Potter?”

“He’s in the prefect bathroom,” Ron spoke up, “he forgot to go and he didn’t want you jumping down his throat.”

Kurt smiled, “Good, I have a plan and I can’t have him messing it up with his sense of honour and other terrible Gryffindor traits.”

“Hey,” Ron chided him.

“This plan requires us to divorce ourselves from our moral compasses,” Kurt instructed them, “as Carole’s religious nut sister always says, ‘in service of the lord, one often needs to step away from God’.”

“Did you just use a religious metaphor?” Hermione gasped.

“This must be serious,” Luna nodded, “tell us what we need to do.”

“First thing I’ll need is your trust,” Kurt stared intently at each of them, “I’m asking for blind faith. The second is your discretion.”

“You have both from me,” Luna smiled.

Hermione grinned, “Do you even have to ask?”

“I don’t understand,” Ron shook his head.

“We’re going to betray a lot of people and break what seems to be all the rules,” Kurt smiled, “it is important that this is done exactly how I say it should be done without any questions, and it is equally important that nobody ever find out.”

“Okay, I’m in,” Ron shrugged, “But there better be no spiders.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Kurt grinned.

~0~

_Harry Potter:_

Harry didn’t understand why Kurt hadn’t just told him about the mermaids, then he would have had more time to think of a way around the task. Harry flipped through the library book fiercely, he doubted any of his friends would help him at this point; they were too invested in the success of their boyfriends to care about him. He did think that leaving the matter to the last minute was a little daft on his part but there had seemed to be so much time since the end of winter break, he also secretly hoped that Kurt and Hermione would present him with a solution.

“Good evening Harry Potter,” Dobby’s face wrinkled deeply around his eyes as he smiled broadly.

“Dobby,” Harry smiled broadly, “I got the socks, thank you for that. They match the man-purse Kurt got me perfectly, at least I think they do.”

“Dobby has another gift for Harry Potter,” the house elf looked over joyed.

Harry began to protest, “You didn’t have to-”

“It is from a friend of house-elves and witches alike,” Dobby stopped, “Dobby has been sent as a messenger.”

“Why?”

“The person who sent the gift felt that it might not be as willingly received from them,” Dobby bowed his head and handed over a small package.

Harry unwrapped the package and inside the small box was leafy plant with a gelatinous texture and a note. Harry was not familiar with the handwriting but the neatly formed script was comforting and the too big capitals were telling. The note read, ‘Dear Harry Potter, this is gillyweed. It should provide you with the ability to breath underwater for an hour, there is still debate as to the effects of saltwater versus freshwater so lean to the side of safety I advise delaying your consumption of it as much as possible. I wish you all the luck with the second task.’ The note wasn’t signed but Harry knew that whoever had sent it was his friend.

“Dobby,” Harry couldn’t suppress the grin that was growing on his face, “Would you tell whoever sent this that I’m ever so grateful.”

“Will do Harry Potter,” the house elf smiled and disapparated.

Harry looked the note over; this was not the handwriting of Hermione or Kurt, it did not belong to any of his teachers yet here it was before him, the solution to his troubles. Harry tried to clear his head but he just kept looking at the package with wonder, somebody had thought of him enough to ensure him a place in the following day’s task. This made his insides turn, somebody had thought of him but believed that Harry didn’t think enough of them to take their help, that made Harry feel like a jerk.

“Harry Potter,” Harry turned suddenly and was faced with Luna Lovegood, “How are you doing this evening?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Harry smiled, was it Luna who had sent the package? He knew of strange and often unheard of forms of magic but Harry was certain that she knew he trusted her, “What brings you to the library?”

“I just wanted to take out a copy of _Spellman’s Syllabury_ ,” Luna waved the large book around, “my copy went missing and Kurt is actually using his.”

“It’s terrible that your things keep disappearing,” Harry was angry that people would mess with Luna that way, “Have you told a teacher?”

“I don’t want to startle Professor Flitwick,” Luna shrugged, “they all come back in the end.”

“If you say so?”

“I do,” Luna shuffled nervously from toe to heel, “would you mind dearly if I sprinkled some good luck dust on you for tomorrow? I’d hate for something bad to happen, it’s a herb mixture from my windowsill garden.”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes but instead he smiled, “sure.”

Luna held out a palm full of what looked like purple glitter, she took a deep breath and blew the powder over him.

~0~

“Good luck Harry,” Ginny smiled up at him, “knock them dead.”

“Thanks,” the smile was not genuine, “where is your brother?”

“I’m assuming you mean Ron,” Ginny grumbled, “I haven’t seen him, he skipped breakfast which is so unlike him. But then again, so did Kurt and Hermione.” Ginny shrugged as they walked down to the shore of the Black lake, “I heard Neville saying that he last saw them last night.”

“No use speculating as to where those two have gone off to,” the tone was sharper than intended but the message was received as intended.

“Are you ready?” Neville smiled, effectively breaking the moment that had come to exist between the pair. He smiled broadly at the pair and clapped each on the shoulder, “you must be excited, have you ingested the gillyweed? Hope not, it would be terrible if you lost time near the end due to an early start.”

“No Neville,” the giggle that escaped was not at all within character but Neville’s concern was simply charming, “I did do my reading on the plant and I know when to take it. Thank you for your concern.”

“You read?” Neville furrowed his brow.

“Harry can read,” Ginny chuckled.

“It’s not a question of can he read,” Neville echoed the giggle, “but does he?”

“It was read to me,” there was an irritable huff, “does that qualm your curiosity?”

“Somebody’s pissy,” Neville lifted his hands in surrender.

There was a pang of guilt at Neville’s dismissal, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off at you that way. I’m just a little uncomfortable and these shorts aren’t helping any in this weather.”

Neville gave a queer glance and laid his hand on Ginny’s shoulder, “let’s go find a spot to watch the task from, all the luck friend.”

“Thanks,” the boat ride to the platform was nothing more than a dreary formality before a great plunge into the unknown, the first task had been very straight forward; get a golden egg from a fire-breathing dragon. This task left a greater portion of the details ambiguous, all there was to be know was that the merfolk of the Black lake had taken something of value and he had to retrieve it in less than an hour.

Standing on the platform waiting for the task to begin, Cedric decided to strike up a conversation, “Good luck Harry, odd that Kurt, Hermione, Luna and Ron wouldn’t come out.”

“This task is almost completely underwater,” the condescent was a tad too thick in the tone, “not really made for viewership.”

“I suppose so,” Cedric shrugged, “but you think they’d be here to wish us luck.”

This laugh was more composed than the previous one, “knowing that lot, there’s probably something new to read. At least that explains three out of four.”

“Nothing comes between them and a book,” Cedric gave a firm clap on the shoulders, politely omitting the bit about Ron being a less than diligent student, “only wish Kurt had come by to wish me luck.”

There was a fight to supress an eye roll, “I’m sure it’s implied and they had every intention of making it down before the task but time has simply escaped them. They’ll probably be waiting when we’re done or something.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” the boy looked dejected none the less.

“Do you think people can see my nipples in this top?” the look on Cedric’s face changed from one of dejection, to one of confusion, before finally settling on amusement.

“I’m sure you’ll be okay,” the taller boy chuckled.

“Will I?” an untrimmed eyebrow rose, “Will I be okay when everybody thinks that I have hamburger nipples because of the cold?”

“Good luck,” Cedric shrugged and walked over to his marked starting spot.

“Good luck to you too.”

Professor Dumbledore stepped to the edge of a higher level of the floating platform and held his long wand to his neck, “Good morning Ladies and Gentleman and welcome to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.” There was a round of applause and cheering from the spectators, “Something has been taken from each of our four champions and they will have an hour to retrieve it, upon completion of the previous task they received a clue that served to prepare them for this task.”

 _Come seek us where our voices sound,_  
We cannot sing above the ground.  
An hour long you’ll have to look,  
To recover what we took.

“All champions at their marks,” Professor Dumbledore’s voice boomed over the still water, “At the sound of the canon you will begin; one, two, three!”

There was a loud explosion and the gillyweed moved from palm to lips; The lake was cold as ice upon initial impact, it seemed gillyweed makes one cold-blooded as the difference between body temperature and the temperature of the lake water was soon negligible. A sharp pain seared the pale skin above the collar bone on either side as human physiology changed, gills appeared and connected with trachea, fingers webbed and elongated, fins sprouted from radius and vertebrae, and feet transformed into flippers.

The entire peripheral vision was tinted green but did not seem to have an adverse effect on the eyes, supposedly due to the nature of the gillyweed. As the transformation took place in a mess of convulsing limbs, the second Hogwarts champion was sinking at an increasing rate.

‘Get your bearings, you’re sinking.’ An angry voice scolded, ‘up is the direction that sunlight is faintly filtering from, get your head in the game. By the way, you’re still sinking.’ Limbs started responding and the mind kicked into high gear, movement was achieved but there was no clear route to the desired destination; every direction looked the same.

“Hi Harry,” a vaguely familiar but terribly forgettable voice called out, “you’re looking different, try something new with your hair?”

“No, I’m on a new diet,” the quip came without effort, “has me turning into a more aquatic me.”

“You’re cute when you’re being funny,” Moaning Mertyl giggled as she floated through the water in a manner similar to which she did the air.

“Thanks,” a thought, “do you come to the lake often Mertyl?”

“Yes, thank you for asking,” Mertyl got as close as she could to smiling, “if I’m in the pipes and a large quantity of water floods through then I get washed out here?”

“The sewage drains into the lake?”

“No silly,” Mertyl scoffed, “Why would I be in a sewage pipe? I’m not sure where the water comes from, I suppose it is just passing through.”

“Oh,” false realisation dawning, “I see what you mean. Mertyl, do you know which way the mermaid village is?”

Mertyl pointed out in one general direction, she was rewarded with a smile and a wave. Taking off in that direction, a number of thoughts circled; what had they taken? This morning nothing appeared to be missing, not at first glance. Swimming was a lot more physically taxing than any other physical activity and it was taking its toll. There was no indication as to how near he was to the merfolk’s village, for a moment a fear that Mertyl had given false directions crept in. It felt as though the lake was larger beneath the surface, and the dark murky water did nothing to ease fear. When it seemed that all hope was lost, below shone the merfolk village. A misplaced deep breath and a great dive, finally faced with what had been taken; Ron, Kurt and Hermione.

“Is this the thing I have to recover?”

“Yes,” the trident wielding mermaid on guard hissed, “pick the one taken from you.”

“Do you know which one was taken from me?” a furrowed brow and a smirk to boot, “I’m not sure which one is mine, you see three out of four are my friends.”

“Pick one.”

“What happens if I pick the wrong one?”

“Then the one meant for you will be left to rot down here.”

“Then can I take all three? I like my friends and I don’t want to see any of them rotting.”

“Only one!”

“I don’t like that,” distraction came in the form of Cedric Diggory, he appeared with a bubble over his mouth and severed the piece of seaweed that was holding Kurt in place. The older boy tapped his wrist with his wand and swam off with Kurt under his arm. Based on Cedric’s actions, it could be extrapolated that Viktor would be getting Hermione and therefore the task was to collect Ron.

‘Then why aren’t you collecting Ron and getting a move on? You might actually finish second if you move quickly.’ The voice was correct, it wasn’t real but it was still right. With a quick wand movement and the severing charm’s incantation, Ron was secured underarm and they began their ascent. Ron was a lot heavier than he looked and it made their ascent a tad difficult, the taller boy would have to cut down on his intake of bacon sandwiches.

Just as they were at a depth where the sunlight was filtering in again, the tentacle of a grindylow grabbed the pair and began dragging them down. It became a choice of dropping Ron and freeing them both or letting themselves be dragged to the murky depths. Their saving grace came in a peculiar form, a shark swam by the pair and frightened off the grindylows, “Krum.”

They broke the surface to find Kurt scolding everyone within arm’s length whilst Cedric tried to restrain and dry him, Ron gave up the statue act and began panicking; flailing wildly and beating the lake’s surface. The gillyweed’s transformation reversed itself when they’d exited the lake.

As the two champions and their rescued captives sat on the platform, Kurt kept complaining about how dirty he was, how his hair might never recover and how the use of unwilling innocent bystanders was completely barbaric. It wasn’t long afterwards that they were joined by Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger, the latter echoed Kurt’s sentiments; on the innocent bystanders’ part, she was certain her hair would recover.

A few minutes outside of time, Fleur Delacour surfaced with a little blonde girl who must have been her sister due to the striking resemblance. Then again, maybe not; Kurt resembled a great number of people who he wasn’t related to, or was he related to them? An enquiry would have to be launched.

“All four Champions have completed the task,” Ludo Bagman’s voice echoed over the now still surface of the lake, “The finishing positions are as follows; in fourth place is Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons, in third place is Viktor Krum of Durmstrang, in second place is Harry Potter of Hogwarts, and in first place is Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts.”

There was loud cheering that echoed all around the Black lake and by extension the school grounds.

~0~

_Kurt:_

“Harry,” Kurt smiled for the first time that day, “Have you thanked the person who provided you with Gillyweed.”

“I was meaning to thank you,” Harry blushed.

“Me?” Kurt raised a finely sculpted brow, “Don’t be absurd, I didn’t do it.”

“No,” Harry furrowed his brow.

“No,” Hermione agreed, “the person who sent you that plant must be both well connected and intelligent.”

“You see,” Ron shrugged, “that’s why Kurt is the logical response, is anybody more connected than Kurt? But then on the other end of the spectrum, Kurt’s Herbology isn’t good enough for him to know about gillyweed; Fred and George said that was Newt level stuff. They haven’t even learned about it.”

“Fred and George aren’t even sure which subjects they have OWLs for,” Kurt scoffed, “so me and the ‘A’ I have for Herbology don’t really care what they have to say.”

“It was Neville,” Harry announced.

“Get that boy a Noddy badge,” Hermione chuckled.

“Now,” Kurt schooled his features, “I was sulking.”

“Oh, give it up,” Ron threw an arm over his shoulder, “Sirius won’t get caught.”

“Maybe not,” Kurt untangled himself from the other boy’s arm, “but he’s not just risking his own life by living dangerously, we’re all accomplices now. That means jail time if this goes sideways.”

“Jail time?” Ron squeaked, “For what?”

“Aiding and abiding a felon,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“On the bright side,” Ron smiled, “if we go to prison then we can meet Kurt’s parents.”

Kurt turned to the red haired boy with a raised eyebrow, “you want to do this now? In front of the kids?”

“At least we’ll be connected,” Hermione shrugged.

“I think you two should stop talking about meeting Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange in Azkaban,” Harry interjected, “I think Kurt is moments from separating your bodies from your heads.”

“Then I could join he headless hunt,” Ron beamed, “sexy.”

“Not my head,” Hermione shook her head, “it’s my best feature. You can have an arm or something.”

“I would take a leg but those go all the way up,” Kurt shrugged, “Where would I even begin to cut?”

“You’re sweet,” Hermione smiled.

“I am,” Kurt nodded to himself, “I’ve got too big a heart.”

“You’ve got too big a heart Kurt,” the trio chorused as they turned off the main road onto a foot path.

“I bet you he won’t have anything special to tell us,” Kurt grumbled, glad he’d worn boots.

“He can explain why Mr Crouch was searching Professor Snape’s ingredients alcove,” Harry shrugged.

“Because Professor Snape was a Death Eater before defecting to the good side,” Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, “he was probably looking for evidence that Professor Snape is still practicing the dark arts.”

“How do you know that?” Ron’s jaw hung open.

Kurt shrugged again, “Professor Dumbledore showed me a memory of Don Karkaroff’s trial.”

“Igor Karkaroff was a Death Eater?” Ron squeaked.

“Honestly,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “Do you see how much you miss when you’re busy being an asshole.”

“I get it,” Ron shrank into himself, “me being an asshole is counterproductive to Nancy Drew.”

“Just like this trip,” Kurt threw in with a smirk.

Harry quirked a curious brow, “Is that why Karkaroff was trying to show Snape something on his forearm?”

“Exactly,” Kurt nodded, “that’s where the dark mark should be.”

“So,” Ron said, glossing over Kurt’s comment, “Do we think one of them put Harry’s name in the Goblet of Fire?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head, “Professor Snape defected and Don Karkaroff turned state informant, if Harry’s dreams are anything to go by and the Dark Lord is planning his return, he wouldn’t use them because they are out of favour with him.”

“Did you just call him ‘the Dark Lord’?” Hermione scoffed.

“What should I have called him?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “not that.”

“Is Lord Voldemort better?”

Hermione shook her head, “both of those make you sound like one of his followers.”

“We’re here,” Harry interrupted.

“It’s just a cave,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “there isn’t a concealment charm or any form of warding hex.”

“That would raise suspicions,” Sirius spoke, having transformed from his animagus form the moment before.

“Hello Sirius,” Kurt crossed his arms.

“Kurt,” the man smiled, “how lovely to see you again.”

Kurt wrinkled his nose, “when was the last time you showered?”

“You’re funny,” Sirius grinned once more. He gestured to the discarded daily prophets strewn all around him, “I’ve been trying to keep up to date but there are somethings I can’t read in the newspapers, you’re going to have to get me updated.”

“It started the day before the world cup when I had a dream of Voldemort with Wormtail and some other man, my scar was burning like menorahs on fire but I put the mofo on voicemail,” Harry began to explain, “then we go to the World Cup final, get wasted and everything is fine until the Death Eaters crash the party.”

“The wizard reaction is to panic instead of realising that there were fifty thousand magic users to ten death eaters,” Kurt pointed out.

“We’re all running for our live,” Hermione shot him a reprimanding look, “but Harry falls down.”

“I get up and everything is over, I realise that I don’t have my wand” Harry explained. He goes on to explain how everything happened, from Hermione and Kurt taking on the world, to them being accused of doing committing the crime, to Winky having Harry’s wand, and finally the strange way Mr Crouch behaved.

“That is a lot to take in,” Sirius took a deep breath, “Crouch is notorious for being harsh, I’m not surprised he would punish insubordination harshly. You know, he’s the one who sent me to Azkaban without a trial. He was on the fast track to Minister for Magic, people had a positive response to his strategy for dealing with Death Eaters when he was the head of Magical Law Enforcement. He’d be minister now if wasn’t for the thing with his son.”

“He had a son?” Ron quirked a brow.

“Yes, his son was discovered to be in cahoots with Death Eaters,” Kurt explained, “He was arrested and Mr Crouch showed his son no mercy, sentenced him to life in prison.”

“Yes, Kurt is quite right,” Sirius nodded, “people couldn’t believe he would do that to his own son.”

“The matter was exacerbated by the fact that his son died in Azkaban,” Kurt explained, “and then weeks later, his wife died.”

“The public believed that he was a bad father,” Sirius shook his head solemnly.

“Well,” Hermione echoed the solemn tone, “I guess all that has caught up with him, he’s been ill for a while. Poor man, it’s unnatural to outlive your child.”

“He must not be that ill if he was searching Professor Snape’s alcove,” Ron shrugged.

“Ronald,” Kurt scolded, “Try a little sensitivity.”

“Maybe he was looking for the ingredients to brew a cure,” Hermione suggested.

“Why not just go to St Mungo’s?” Ron countered.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “it makes more sense that a man who can convict people without giving them a trial, who mistreats his house elf, and who permits Aurors to practice the darkest magic, would be looking for ingredients because he clearly doesn’t need any evidence to throw people in Azkaban.”

“I concur,” Sirius grinned, “many people in the wizarding community trust Snape because Dumbledore trusts Snape. They ignore the fact that he used to be friends with that group of Slytherins who became Death Eaters and his leanings towards the dark arts.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Kurt interjected, “that might be against your basics instincts as Gryffindors but let us try something different, basing our conclusions on factual premises.”

“How are you telling us not jump to conclusions?” Ron chided Kurt, “You, yourself, said that Professor Snape used to be a Death Eater.”

“I based that statement on facts,” Kurt raised an interjectory finger, “not a ‘feeling in my bones’.”

“Why…” Sirius stopped mid-statement, “the feeling is more in my gut, does that help?”

“Not really,” Hermione squeezed between Kurt and Sirius before they could turn this into a personal thing, “Kurt, with good reason, is sensitive to the judgement of ordinary behaviours as something more sinister.”

Harry furrowed his brow, “Like what?”

“The fact that making friends with Slytherins who might go bad makes you bad by association,” Kurt groaned, “People always says that there’s not a wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin but Professor Quirrel was a former Ravenclaw.”

“Hey,” Harry raised his hands in surrender, “that was one time.”

“You really know your Death Eater history,” Sirius smirked.

“It’s because-” Ron began but Kurt elbowed him in the ribs, “What?”

“We’re not telling everyone,” Kurt hissed.

“Not everyone,” Ron shrugged, “just Sirius.”

“Today it’s Sirius, tomorrow it’s the daily prophet and Rita Skeeter,” Kurt crossed his arms, “we’re not telling people.”

Sirius smirked, “What aren’t you telling people?”

“I’m confused,” Ron furrowed his brow, “Why aren’t we telling people?”

“Because it’s personal and Kurt will begin discussing the matter when he feels comfortable with letting the masses know the intimate details of his life,” Hermione explained, “the journey Kurt is on is complicated and deeply personal.”

“I didn’t think it was that big a deal,” Ron nodded slowly.

“I’m so curious,” Sirius rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“It’s really not that interesting,” Ron shook his head.

Harry raised a curious brow, “In what way is that new piece of information about Kurt not interesting?”

“New?” Ron furrowed his brow, “Hardly, we’ve known since first year.”

“You’ve known since first year?” Kurt furrowed his brow.

“Yea,” Ron gave Harry, Hermione and Kurt a curious glance, “it was pretty obvious.”

“Obvious?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “what are you talking about?”

“How much Kurt loves History of Magic, what are you on about?” Realisation dawned on Ron’s face, “I see, you thought I meant the other thing.”

“Yes,” the three chorused.

“Have some faith in me,” Ron crossed his arms indignantly.

“We really should have more faith in you,” Kurt agreed, “You haven’t told anybody yet. A feat when you consider that we were fighting.”

“Well,” Ron scratched the side of his nose nervously, “About that…”

“Who did you tell?”

“I might have told mum…” Ron flinched “and Dad… and Charlie… and, if she didn’t already know, Luna. I didn’t tell them details, just the jest.”

“When did you have the time to tell so many people?” Hermione gaped at him.

“All my friends weren’t talking to me,” Ron pointed out, “I had time.”

“Why would you tell people?” Kurt furrowed his brow, “was it some kind of conversation starter?”

“Take you four out of the equation and my life isn’t as interesting as you’d think,” Ron admitted, “without you three there are no fugitives of the law in my life.”

“That is truly touching but is anybody going to tell me about Kurt?” Sirius directed the question to Harry.

“You’re not going hear it from me,” Harry shrugged, “just like you wouldn’t betray the trust of your friends, you can’t expect me to do it to my friends.”

“As touching as that gesture is,” Kurt grinned, “the jest is as close as any of you can get to telling somebody.”

“Unless we team up,” Hermione pointed out, “I could tell a little, Ron could divulge some different but related info and Harry could deliver the closing remarks.”

“Yeah,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “but would you?”

“I’m really enjoying this living thing I’ve been doing lately,” Harry grinned, “I’m kind of famous for it."

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Kurt smirked. His smile fell almost as quickly as it had come, “how did we get to this topic of conversation?”

“You were lecturing us on jumping to conclusions,” Harry explained, “you were going on about how it’s not fair that people say that there’s not a wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “think about what it means to defect, not just from a political belief but out from under a murderous lunatic. It’s a complex issue and it should be dealt with delicately.”

“How’s about I ask Percy how sick Mr Crouch is in a letter,” Ron suggested, “that way we can find out if he’s still working on the side or if he’s dying and trying to settle old scores.”

“Ron,” Hermione swiftly picked her jaw up, off the floor, “that’s brilliant, it will give us inside perspective but it must be carefully worded.”

“I’ll have Neville whip something up,” Kurt nodded his agreement.

“Neville Longbottom?” Harry and Ron chorused.

“Of course,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“His fantastic fear of everything makes him quite the word smith,” Kurt shook his head at the pair, “he has a way with words so as not to anger anyone, more than can be said for the two of you.”

Ron crossed his arms, “We have plenty of sensitivity.”

“We really don’t,” Harry shook his head, “we were just insensitive to Neville’s feelings.”

“Granted but we didn’t mean any malice by it,” Ron shrugged.

“We all have our tasks,” Kurt interjected, “Ron can work on his letter to Percy with Neville, Harry can prepare for the next task. Hermione and I will finish our work from our extra classes.”

“What should I do?” Sirius grinned.

“There isn’t much to do,” Hermione shrugged, “You can pretend you don’t exist.”

“Keep a low profile,” Kurt smiled.

“Stay under the radar,” Harry agreed.

“Don’t get us arrested,” Ron scolded.


	13. Chapter 13

“Tell me what the graveyard was like, tell me what he was like,” The man stood uncomfortably close, “what was the Dark Lord like?”

He took a step back and straightened up, “Before we go any further, I know you’re not Professor Moody.” The man was flawed but didn’t cower away, “it’s fine, I’m not Harry Potter.”

~0~

“Come out from back there,” Luna scolded, “He’s not going to carry himself.”

“Well,” Hermione smirked, “he kind of is.” She waved her wand, “ _Petrificus totalus_.”

Kurt threw the invisibility cloak over Harry Potter’s immobilised body, he cracked his knuckles and they began to move, “ _Wingardium leviosa_.” Kurt moved directly behind the boy’s unmoving body with Hermione walking ahead, they navigated out of the Library, “how suspicious do we look?”

“Not very,” Luna shrugged as she walked beside their cargo, creating the idea that they were walking a respectable distance from each other, “Harry is short enough so we don’t look too weird.”

“Remind me again why we couldn’t just tell Harry what our plan is?” Hermione groaned as they climbed down flight after flight of stairs, “that way he could walk to where we’re imprisoning him.”

“Ron assured us that Harry wouldn’t go for it,” Luna’s voice was a lilted whisper, “I agree, Harry would have fought us on this and it would have just made us all angry as hell.”

“Where is Ron?” Hermione looked around.

“Why?” Kurt rolled his eyes, “is Harry heavy?”

Hermione stopped in her tracks, “he’s not heavy but Ron should be here to help us.”

“He should but he isn’t,” Kurt groaned, “so why have we stopped?”

“Wait for it,” Hermione held up her hand.

Just before Kurt chewed Hermione’s head off, Professor Flitwick and Tracey Davis came around the corner in deep conversation. The pair stopped and eyed the three of them, Professor Flitwick turned to the student beside him, “Would you mind if I asked for Ms Granger and Mr Hummel’s opinion on the matter? I think the thoughts of your peers on the matter would be more useful to you.”

“Hummel, Granger,” Tracey turned to the pair, her fingers tangled in the dense mass of black curls, “I wanted to know what Professor Flitwick’s thoughts on the idea of combining charms to create a more impactful result were, do you have anything to add?”

“Do you have any ideas to share?” Hermione quirked her brow, looking nervously from Kurt to Luna to Tracey, “Like an example so I might better wrap my head around the idea.”

“Like using the substantive charm in association with the mending charm,” the Slytherin girl explained.

“In theory the different properties of the two charms,” Hermione’s jaw hung open.

“When enacted correctly,” Kurt added, “should create a combined effect.”

“In this case,” Tracey smiled, “it should imbue the object in question with indestructible properties.”

“And that is the beauty of the marriage of the brilliance of young minds,” Professor Flitwick clapped his hands excitedly, “if you should elect to become a scholar of charms then the idea is further explored.”

“That’s really riveting stuff,” Luna smiled nervously, “but we should get going.”

“Luna is correct,” Kurt smiled broadly, checking his pocket watch in jest, “thank you both for the learning opportunity.”

“If you’d like Tracey,” Hermione began, her smile fixed in place, “We might further explore the thought at some later date.”

“Yeah,” Tracey pursed her full lips, “some later date.”

“Now if you’ll please excuse us,” Kurt gave a polite smile. Without giving the pair an opportunity to question where they were going and why they were walking in such a peculiar fashion. They were once again making good time, down the stairs, toward the basement, with Harry suspended between them.

“We just made a spectacle of ourselves,” Luna let out the breath she’d been holding, “while we were breaking the law.”

“I’m almost certain that drugging Harry Potter isn’t against the law,” Kurt giggled, “and you got his permission to drug him.”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded vigorously as they came to their last turn, “he consented to you drugging him. Besides, Professor Flitwick and Tracey didn’t suspect a thing.”

“What would have been suspicious would have been if Hermione and I had passed up an opportunity to be insufferable know-it-alls,” Kurt chuckled, “can you imagine? Letting people think they know more or better than us.”

“I try my hardest not to,” Hermione shuddered.

“ _Sodalitas_.” Kurt spoke clearly and the brick wall opened to receive them, “don’t engage unless you are engaged.”

The three teens moved swiftly, through the common room and with great haste into the fourth year boys’ dormitory that Kurt shared with Dumb, Dumber and Obnoxious. They placed Harry Potter on Kurt’s large bed, still hidden under the invisibility cloak, and posted Bomballerina on guard duty- but not before stealing a lock of his hair.

“Thank God that’s done,” Luna wiped her brow.

Hermione smiled and cracked her knuckled, “let’s break both of Ron’s legs when we find him.”

“I’m sure he has a perfectly good explanation for ditching us in our hour of need,” Kurt chuckled as he dug through his large chest, “but if he doesn’t then he knows I know a spell that can break every bone in his body.”

“It’s not real until I’ve seen you use it or you’ve taught it to me,” Hermione crossed her arms.

Kurt snorted, “who died and made you arbitrator of what is and isn’t real?”

“Nobody,” Hermione pursed her lips, “I appointed myself.”

“Funny,” Kurt grinned, “that’s the same way the White Witch became Queen of Narnia.”

“Where is Narnia?” Luna furrowed her brow.

“It’s a fictional world created by CS Lewis for his fantasy series of the same name,” Hermione explained, “And the White Witch also lied about being human because only a human could rule Narnia.”

“Your only defence is that you were honest when you stole the office of Arbitrator of what is and isn’t real?”

“Enough,” Luna snapped, she immediately shrank back, “I just think we should get this over with.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and gestured for the blonde haired girl to hold out her wrist, he fastened a black bracelet made of dead woven branches. He took a step back and watched as the effects of the bracelet took place, Luna began to transform from her doe-eyed self into a green-eyed friend. Soon it was Harry Potter who stood before them with a quirked brow.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Luna patted herself all over in shock, “I thought I was going to have to drink polyjuice potion.”

“I figured that if you ingested the polyjuice, it would last as long as it took your body to digest and clear it,” Kurt shrugged, “this way, it will last as long as you’re wearing that bracelet.”

“How?”

“By virtue of Hermione being the brightest witch of the age,” Kurt grinned.

“It’s the stalk of an Ethiopian cotton plant that was used in the production of magical bandages before the plant went extinct,” Hermione explained, “it has a special property where it can be imbued with magic that will last for the duration of its first use.”

“Basically, you will be Harry Potter until you take that bracelet off,” Kurt pursed his lips as he handed Luna a pair of grey slacks, “Please don’t take it off till after the end of the second task. Because the plant is extinct, we only have two stalks and we have plans for both; they were also very difficult and very illegal to acquire.”

“Sexy,” Luna nodded as she removed any pieces of uniform that identified her as a Ravenclaw student.

“Also,” Hermione placed a hand on each of her shoulders, “don’t blow your cover by acting too out of character; don’t act too smart, don’t say anything weird and, most importantly, Don’t talk too much.”

“Bella,” Kurt spoke firmly to the giant kneazle, “Don’t let anyone near my bed, eat them if you must.” Once Luna was fully changed and they’d fixed Harry’s spectacles on the bridge of her nose, it was as if the real Harry Potter was standing before them, “Harry really needs a haircut.”

“Seconded,” Hermione and Luna chorused.

~0~

“I’m not Professor Moody and you’re not Harry Potter?” the man moved closer and there was no escape, “Then who do you suppose we really are?”

A smile spread across the face of Harry Potter, “You’ve got bigger worries than who I am.”

A triumphant smirk, “Is that so?”

“Yes,” a mirror image of the smirk marred Harry Potter’s face, “Now that the dark lord has regained all his powers, how do you think he will react when he discovers that you provided him with the wrong teenager? He wanted Harry Potter and you brought him somebody else.”

“The ritual specifically required Harry Potter,” the smirk grew arrogant, “it wouldn’t work with another.”

“You assume,” arrogance filled his tone, “but I, on the other hand know.”

~0~

Kurt’s head was spinning, he took a deep breath and his head was spinning. His blood ran cold but it had nothing to do with the cold lake water, how had he become a part of this competition? Had he consented to being immobilised and imprisoned by the merfolk? If he had been out of the game for as long as his memory was blank, then who was overseeing the plan?

“Mr Hummel,” Denis’s voice called out through the haze, “somebody help him out of the water, he seems to be disorientated.”

Kurt was helped out of the water by strong hands, Finn wrapped a towel over Cedric’s shoulders and Neville did the same with Kurt, “What is going on here?”

“It’s fine,” Finn assured him, “You’re fine.”

Denis’s cheerful voice followed suit, “Mr Diggory was the first to complete the task.”

“Whose wise idea was this?” Kurt snapped at his brother, “and what makes you think I’m fine or okay with this?” He whipped his head around wildly, “God, it’s cold.”

“Harry said it gave him hamburger nipples,” Cedric chuckled.

“Harry?” Kurt’s eyes grew wide, “he said that?”

“He said a lot of weird things,” Neville explained, “but he’s fine, I took care of it.”

“Where is my wand?” Kurt stuttered as he clapped his hands and a small flame appeared between his palms, “I need to get dry.” Kurt looked around nervously, “and where the hell is Hermione?”

“She’s in the lake,” Cedric tried to make his voice soothing, “Viktor’s going to get her because I think Harry is getting Ron.”

Panic washed over Kurt’s face, before he could speak Neville gave him a small smile and whispered once more, “I took care of it.”

Cedric flicked his wand in Kurt’s direction and a warm gust of air dried off his clothes, “there.” the taller boy leaned down and kissed Kurt, “that must feel tons better, yes?”

“Yes, thank you,” Kurt smiled and leaned up to kiss his boyfriend, “truly someone to watch over me.” Kurt looked around once more, “where is Professor Dumbledore?”

“Depends,” Finn crossed his arms and stared daggers at Kurt, “are you going to cause a scene?”

“Of course I’m going to cause a scene, what the hell kind of question is that?” Kurt huffed, “they had me participating in the Triwizard tournament without my permission, if I’d wanted to be part of the tournament then I would have entered.”

“Mr Potter and Mr Weasley,” Denis pointed some distance out into the lake, where Ron’s red hair and Harry’s black hair were visible, “they’re in second place.”

The pair swam over and were helped out of the cold water, as they towelled off, Kurt looked over the onyx surface of the lake as he waited for the return of his rock. Within a few moments, the head of a shark broke the surface and began to transform into the stern faced Bulgarian; beside him surfaced Hermione and he helped her out of the water. Kurt watched as Viktor helped her dry off, speaking intimately to her as they shared a moment that Kurt didn’t have the heart to break up.

“Everything is fine,” Harry’s voice spoke in his ear, “for now at least.”

~0~

“The Dark Lord will reward me,” the man insisted.

He scoffed, “the Dark Lord will destroy you, he will not be let down.”

“You know nothing of the Dark Lord,” the man boomed, “I am his most loyal servant.”

“The Dark Lord is a changed man,” he teased, “You did not witness the horrors he unleashed upon those who failed to heed the whispers.”

“I heard the whispers and I returned,” the man’s tone was boastful.

He shook his head, “your loyalty is limited compared to those who brave Azkaban.”

“I did my time in Azkaban,” the man screamed, “The Dark Lord so believed in my loyalty that he assigned me to the tutelage of his most loyal followers and I was sentenced alongside them.”

“Barty Crouch Jr?”

~0~

Kurt had easily snuck Luna and Hermione back into the Slytherin Dungeon to get Harry, he had been able to convince the Slytherins to attend the Hufflepuff party more easily as he’d slowly earned their trust. They stood around his four poster bed, Luna changed back into her school uniform and removed the bracelet; reassuming her own form.

Kurt pursed his lips, “Should we wake him and then alter his memories, or do it the other way around?”

“We should alter his memory first,” Hermione nodded to herself, “I think his mind will be less resistant to it in its current state of unconsciousness.”

Luna shook her head, “What if I’m not good enough? What if I ruin Harry Potter? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, I can’t do this.”

“Luna,” Hermione’s voice was soft, “memory charms are second year stuff.”

“Besides,” Kurt’s voice was sharper than he intended it to be, “Hermione and I will be helping you do it. We can’t do it without you, you’re the one who’s memories we need to use.”

“I just don’t want to hurt him,” Luna said in a small voice.

“And you won’t,” Kurt assured her, “You’re a brilliant witch, that’s why I let you participate in a tournament that has bested more experienced wizards in the past.”

“Not to sound immodest,” Hermione cleared her throat, “but we’re probably three of the brightest wizards of this age.”

“Of our age, maybe,” Kurt corrected, “you’re the one who’s the brightest of the age.”

“You know what I mean,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “when you’re ready Luna.”

Luna nodded and took a deep breath, “On three.”

“One,” Kurt whispered.

“Two,” Hermione took a steadying breath.

“Three,” they chorused, “ _memento aliter_.”

Kurt took a step forward, “ _animare iterum_.”

Harry groggily sat up and rubbed his eyes, “I think I still have water in my ear.”

~0~

“How can this possibly be?” he took a deep breath, “you’re dead.”

“Then what would make you think it?”

“Because the LeStranges were the Dark Lord’s most loyal followers and they’re all still in Azkaban,” he shook his head, “all but their accomplice, you.” He shook his head, “that explains why Snape was missing polyjuice ingredients after Harry saw Mr Crouch on the Marauders Map, he saw you. The map never specified whether it was Jr or Sr, just Barty Crouch.”

~0~

_Harry Potter:_

Something had been off with Harry for a while, the experience with Mr Crouch the previous night had not helped him any. He’d been feeling as if he were trapped in a permanent out of body experience, his behaviour during the second task attested to that fact. He had behaved out of character, he would have never left Hermione and Gabrielle without assurance that they would be rescued. That lapse in judgement has been weighing down on him ever since, he was yet to re-orientate himself.

Seeing Sirius on their last Hogsmead visit had been the first time in a while where he’d felt the earth moving underfoot, his life had taken on a mundane tone of late. Not for lack of excitement, there were plenty of exciting things happening around him, but they hadn’t Nancy Drew-ed since that short time when they were trying to figure out who put his name in the Goblet of Fire. They were as close to ordinary students as one can get at Hogwarts, if one ignored the Triwizard tournament; nothing out of the ordinary, aside from Kurt and Ron getting along since the ned of Christmas break.

It seemed that the tides were turning rapidly as of last night; Viktor and his chance meeting with Mr Crouch, which was followed by the man’s murder. Harry wasn’t shaken or traumatised, he was afraid; his dreams of Voldemort working to regain power and now a ministry official was dead. He was afraid because the same ministry official had been searching Professor Snape’s storage, were the two incidents related? Kurt had vouched for the innocents of Professor Snape but could he be wrong? Could Dumbledore be wrong?

“Mr Longbottom,” Professor Trelawney held up her arms to silence the class, “might you read me three of your predictions.”

Neville cleared his throat, “I predict that the right will fall, something new will be lost, musk will be replaced with leather, and something known will be rediscovered.”

“Four predictions,” Professor Trelawney clapped her hands excitedly, “each more interesting than the last, I am however afraid that only great sadness can precede the last two.”

Harry suppressed a chuckle, regardless of the accuracy of Neville’s predictions, Professor Trelawney’s endorsement meant nothing when it came to looking into the future; at least, not when she spoke in her regular voice. Harry tried so hard to contain his laughter that he ended up caught in that terrible limbo where your body is trying to laugh but you can’t get enough air into your lungs, whilst your body is trying to breathe but you’re trying too hard to laugh to breathe. Darkness slowly encroached upon him and soon he had been completely engulfed by it.

Harry was in a dimly lit room with a vague familiarity that scratched at the back of his mind, he was near the ground and looking up at the large furniture that filled the room. With him in the room was Peter Pettigrew, cowering in the corner furthest from the armchair beside Harry, and with him was a presence. There was an ominous nature to the presence and Harry could not behold its terrible nature, it was Voldemort and this was just like the dream he had before school started but there were only two people other than himself present.

“Crucio,” the frail voice hissed, “you disappoint me worm tail.”

“I apologise Master,” Wormtail grovelled, “I didn’t mean to let him escape, please forgive me.”

“You’re telling me that you’re not intentionally incompetent?” Voldemort gave faint cackle, “I hate to imagine what might become of you without my guidance, I suppose you’d be dead as well. Crucio.” Voldemort coughed loudly and repeatedly, the kind of coughing fit that shook his entire body, “I suppose there’s no good in driving one of my only remaining followers insane.”

“Master,” Wormtail threw himself to the ground before the armchair, “your benevolence knows no bound, I am not worthy.”

“You aren’t worthy, and neither is my benevolence boundless,” a frail arm reached out to where Harry was watching from, “you’re on thin ice. One of these days I will feed you to Nagini.

Harry was ripped from the dream and back to Professor Trelawney’s tower; his clothes were drenched with sweat, his scar was burning and all his class mates were watching him with shocked faces.

“Harry,” Neville was first to speak, “are you alright?”

“Yes,” Harry shook his head, “what happened?”

“You had a bit of a fall,” Ron explained as he helped him into sitting position, “luckily you fell to your left and into Neville’s lap or else you would have hit your head pretty hard.”

“I do believe you were overwhelmed by the beyond,” Professor Trelawney’s bracelets clinked as she twirled her shawl, “You showed all the classic signs of one commuting with the great beyond.”

“Oh,” Harry rolled his eyes, “great. That sounds exciting.” Harry got to his feet, stumbling slightly, “Can I be excused? I want to pop by the hospital wing so Madam Pomphry can be sure I was in the beyond.”

“Very well,” Professor Trelawney shrugged, “but we must discuss what the beyond has shown you at a later date.”

Harry packed his things and was down the ladder, then the stairs as quickly as he could. Harry crossed the transfiguration courtyard and navigated the corridors till he emerged in the main courtyard. Now there was a decision to be made; cross the courtyard to the hospital wing and take a nap, or walk down the corridor to the gilded gargoyle and consult Dumbledore. Going to the hospital wing might cause his friends undue duress and he didn’t want to face the repercussions when they figured out that he was faking.

Harry made his way to the gilded statue that concealed the stairway to the headmaster’s office, he didn’t know the password but he did know that Professor Dumbledore tended to use types of candy, “Lemon sherbet, liquorice snaps, liquorice wand, ton-tongue toffy.” That last one wasn’t real, not in the strict sense. Harry tried to think of whether Kurt had mentioned any candy but he came up blank, what was he missing? “Every flavour beans? Chocolate frogs.” Then a thought occurred to him, as much as Dumbledore had an influence on Kurt, it appeared to be a two-way street, “Ritz bar, Chocolate truffles.”

The statue began to rotate and Harry smiled broadly, he hopped on and rode the rotating staircase all the way to the top. When he reached the grand door to the headmaster’s office, it was slightly ajar. Within the office were three figures; the lithe headmaster, the dumpy Minister for Magic, and the stout Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

“I assure you minister,” Dumbledore’s tone was condescending, “Barty did not drop dead of his own of his own accord.”

“He’d been ill for months,” Fudge spoke his stern yet slightly shrill voice, “he hadn’t been able to fulfil his duties, that sounds like a man who might drop dead.”

“Yes, yet he didn’t,” Professor Moody spoke with authority, “the death of Barty Crouch was clearly the work of dark magic.”

“The company you’re keeping these days is less than savoury,” Fudge scoffed, “Probably that half-giantess Madam Maxime.”

Harry suddenly understood what Hagrid had meant when he asked her which side she had it on, he wanted to know which one of her parents had been a giant; big boned my arse.

Dumbledore had moved closer to Fudge, “you're letting your personal prejudices blind you.”

“I have no such prejudices,” the man tried to look down his nose at the taller wizard, “Hagrid and I have been friends for years.”

“That doesn’t protect you from your prejudices,” Dumbledore spoke down to the man, “they are very much alive if you can make a judgement based on the demographic that somebody belongs to.”

“But giants are known to be savage creatures,” Fudge argued.

“And Purebloods are known to believe in supremacist ideals of the Death Eaters,” Dumbledore crossed his arms, “can I therefore assume that you and Alastor share their views.”

“Headmaster,” Professor Moody flicked his wand and revealed Harry to the room, “this conversation is no longer private.”

“I’m going to have the Aurors’ Office patrol the grounds to see if the supposed attacker is lingering,” Minister Fudge spoke with a flushed face, “Good afternoon Harry.”

“I’ll go supervise,” Professor Moody said as he followed the man out of the room.

Dumbledore rolled his eyes, “we’ll speak when I return, Alastor and Cornelius have never seen eye to eye. I will be needed to stop them bickering.” He laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “we’ll speak when I return, help yourself to a liquorice snap.”

Harry didn’t have a liquorice snap, they were more Kurt’s speed than his own. He paced the perimeter of the circular office, looking at the trinkets that filled the glass cabinets. The silver gizmos were of all sorts but none were familiar, and none caught Harry’s eye until he came to a plain looking bowl filled with cloudy grey liquid and lined with weird letters. There wasn’t much to it but it beckoned Harry to get closer, have a peek inside. Harry leaned forward and felt himself falling.

Harry found himself in an indoor amphitheatre, with a cage in the centre and a man in the cage. Harry was confused by what had happened but more so when he found himself seated between a younger Professor Moody and Dumbledore. It appeared to be a trial of sorts, with Mr Crouch presiding over the court. Harry looked closely at the man on trial and found himself looking at Igor Karkaroff.

“Calling to order the Wizengamot Trial of Igor Karkaroff,” Mr Crouch spoke sternly, “the prisoner of Azkaban Prison wishes to present this council with information in exchange for a suspended sentence. It is the job of this council to judge the merit of the information and decide on recompense.”

“Thank you,” Karkaroff moved to grab the bars but pulled his hands away as soon as his hands made contact with the metal bars, “I have names of Death Eaters who have gone uncaptured and their crimes.”

“Very well,” Mr crouch nodded, “the council will hear names one at a time.”

“Antonin Dolohov,” the man was a shell of that which he had become, shivering like a heroine addict, “he tortured muggles and non-supporters.”

Mr Crouch looked down at something on his podium and shook his head, “Dolohov is already in custody.”

“I have more names,” Karkaroff pleaded, “Even Rosier; he did grunt work, intimidation and the sorts.”

Again, Mr Crouch consulted his podium and shook his head, “Rosier was killed resisting arrest.”

“Quinton Travers,” Karkaroff twitched nervously, “he killed Marlene McKinnon and her family.”

Mr Crouch didn’t shake his head this time, instead he handed a card to the man on his left, “that name has been taken into consideration, does the prisoner have anymore names?”

“George Muliciber,” Karkaroff gave a crazed smile, “a specialist in the imperius curse.”

Another card was passed left, “any other names?”

“Severus Snape,” Karkaroff grabbed the bars and there was a sizzling sound, “the Dark Lord’s confidant and most trusted advisor.”

Dumbledore stood while Harry’s head swam, he knew this but hearing someone other than Kurt saying it made it real, “Snape was a Death Eater but used his position to gather information as a spy for our side at great personal risk to himself. He is no more a Death Eater than myself.”

“Snape was a Death Eater!” Karkaroff screamed, “he remains loyal to the Dark Lord.”

“If you have no more names of value,” Mr Crouch gestured to the guards, “the prisoner will be return to Azkaban whilst the council evaluates the information he has provided and decides on adequate compensation.”

Karkaroff protested as they carted him off. The scene swirled into smoke and they were back in the same room, this time with a different yet still familiar person in the cage; Ludo Bagman.

“Calling to order the Wizengamot Trial of Ludo Bagman,” Mr Crouch spoke sternly as he had at the previous trial, “who stands accused of knowingly passing information to Death Eaters. How does the defendant plea?”

“I’m not guilty I tell you,” Ludo smiled at the crowd, his handsome face dirty and his clothes dishevelled.

“But there are witnesses to the exchange,” Mr Crouch furrowed his brow in frustration, “are you telling me that all those people were lying?”

“Look,” Ludo flashed another smile, “I didn’t know he was a Death Eater.”

“But your carelessness resulted in the death of a family,” Crouch countered, “Surely, your gross negligence is a punishable offence.”

“I’m just the best beater in all the British Isles,” Ludo shrugged, “I don’t know anything about politics.”

“Ignorance is not a defence,” Mr Crouch snapped. He shook his head in defeat, “do you have any witnesses to call? Or perhaps a closing statement?”

“I’m not a bad guy,” Ludo bowed his head, “I made a small mistake.”

“Okay,” Mr Crouch gestured to the Wizard at the prompter, “Time for a vote; all in favour conviction.” A few hands, “All opposed.” As sea of hands rose, “the nays have it.”

The scene swirled into grey once more and the same room appeared but this time the cage was gone, in its place was a throne with a beautiful woman chained to it, on one side was a large man with a shadow of elegance, on her other side was a man who resembled the first and a much younger man who was bent into himself. “Calling to order the Wizengamot Trial of Bellatrix LeStrange, Rudolphus LeStrange, Rebastan LeStrange and Barty Crouch Jr,” Mr Crouch was unmoved by the last name, “the four prisoner stand accused of the Torture and permanent incapacitation of Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom.”

Standing on the platform looking like they were being knighted by the Queen were Kurt’s birth parents and his uncle, beside them was the man Harry had seen in his dream of Voldemort from June.

~0~

“You’re smart,” the man grabbed his flask to take a sip but he came up empty, “too smart to be Harry Potter, that’s for sure.”

“Harry Potter is my friend,” he snapped, “I will not stand to hear him insulted by somebody other than myself.”

The man chuckled as he riffled through a cabinet, then a chest before turning back to him, “Do you know how I knew who you were?”

“Don’t bluff,” he shook his head, “I will not be influenced.”

“Come on,” the man smiled, “I’m coming out to play, let me see those exquisite cheek bones Mr Hummel.”

“I can’t,” he shook his head, “not yet at least.”

“From the first time I saw you, I knew there was something familiar,” Barty Crouch Jr cackled as his face melted into a younger, gaunter one, “the way you look, that demeanour; I had seen it all before but I couldn’t recall where.” His hair thickened and turned from ash blond to mud brown, “I asked around the staff room but nobody knew until I asked Professor Binns, the old fool couldn’t tell you apart from your father with his failed eyesight and called you Ruddy. Commented on your less than savoury brother too, I didn’t think he meant Hudson by then.”

“All this interest and you hadn’t even met me,” Kurt scoffed, “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or creeped out.”

“My only intention is to flatter,” Barty smiled manically, removing the mechanical eye as he spoke.

“You told me who my parents were on the day we met,” Kurt pointed out, “did you do the research after you shared your suspicions with me.”

“No,” Barty cackled once more, “I would have never recognised you, I’d never seen you but only been told of your existence and sworn to secrecy. Even if I did know you, I wouldn’t remember the face of an infant.” He shook his head and paced, “it was seeing you with Narcissa and Druella at the world cup final, that resemblance, that got me thinking.”

“World Cup final?” Kurt’s eyes grew wide, “you were with Binky, you stole Harry’s wand, you conjured the dark mark.” Kurt balled his fists at his side, “Do you know the irreparable emotional turmoil you’ve put poor Winky through as a result of your actions that night?”

Kurt didn’t think before acting, he swung a left hook and broke the man’s nose. Before the man could regain his composure, Kurt had his wand out and waved it with precision, “ _Petrificus totalus_.”


	14. Chapter 14

Kurt peered out the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor’s office door, “ _lumos maxima_.” Kurt threw the ball of light down the corridor and waited. Soon Hermione, Ron and himself came around the corner in a very peculiar fashion, “Hurry.”

“We’re trying not to draw to much attention to ourselves,” Hermione hissed as they entered the office.

“Draw attention to yourselves?” Kurt quirked a brow, “there’s nobody but us in the castle.”

“Do you think they’re going to stay down at the quidditch pitch forever?” Ron smirked, “sure they’ll be up any moment now.”

“Let’s get to work,” Kurt dismissed them.

Hermione uncovered Harry’s unconscious body, “I hope there aren’t any long term side effects to all this memory alteration we’re doing.”

“His memory whilst he’s under is blank,” other Kurt spoke, “the memories we’re inserting are the exact same length of time, this means that nothing is being suppressed or damaged. It’s as if we’re directing his dreams but making him think they’re real.”

“I don’t like this,” Kurt shook his head as he stripped out of Harry Potter’s clothes and changed into his own.

“It was your plan,” Hermione squealed, she had turned away whilst he and other Kurt changed clothes.

“Not the plan,” Kurt rolled his eyes, “that.” He pointed to the other Kurt, “My plan is flawless, the only hurdle we have to overcome is human error.”

“It’s just ten minutes more,” other Kurt assured him.

“Kurt,” Ron put his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, “how are you?”

“I will be able to think about that again in a moment,” Kurt took a deep breath, “right now, I need to be Harry Potter.”

“You’re bleeding,” Ron countered, “you sure you don’t want that looked at?”

“I’ll be fine in a moment,” He gave a weak smile, everyone was once again dressed in the clothes that belonged to their true form, “wands at the ready.”

“Ready,” the four of them chorused, “ _memento aliter_.”

“Get under the cloak and we’ll meet in the hospital wing in a moment,” Kurt nodded slowly, more for his own benefit than theirs, “Hermione, Ron, Luna.” He took a deep breath, “Thank you. Send my thanks on to Neville.”

Luna stepped forward and Kurt looked into his own cold grey eyes, she pulled a vial out of his breast pocket, “to the edge of the earth.” She gave a small smile and poured a drop of the liquid on the gash on his forearm, the liquid burned as the wound healed.

Kurt turned away from them and removed the bracelet of black braided branches, he reassumed his own form. He concentrated, “ _venir_.” A small dagger appeared in his hands, Kurt took a deep breath and grabbed Harry’s forearm, “to the edge of the earth.”

~0~

He took a deep breath; Kurt knew that if anything was going to happen, it would happen today. It was the final opportunity that the Triwizard Tournament would present Harry’s pursuer to take action, somebody would have to be in Harry’s place when that happened; today it would be Kurt. Kurt was the only one for the job, he couldn’t put somebody else into the line of fire.

He would fare well, everyone kept saying that he was the one who should have entered the tournament; he had a full house of top grades for all his subjects, he was the youngest living Master of the Order of the White Lotus, he was the descendent of two wizards so fearsome that they were amongst the most feared followers of the Dark Lord, he was raised to never back down from a challenge, and he recently had a birthday.

At present, Kurt was watching from across the room as Mrs Weasley and Bill were doting on Harry; they had come to support Harry as the Weasleys were the only people who were not already at Hogwarts who could show face on Harry’s behalf. Kurt was hanging from Cedric’s arm, he might have a mission to accomplish but that didn’t come between him and Cedric. Mr Diggory had created some friction earlier by confronting Harry for drawing attention away from Cedric with his Celebrity, Mrs Diggory had to intervene and Cedric had to assure the man that he was perfectly happy staying out of the spotlight. Kurt turned up to the handsome boy, “I’m proud of you for entering, you’ve done exceptionally well so far.”

“And he’s going to win the whole thing today,” Mr Diggory grinned like he’d won the lottery and maybe he had because as far as sons went, the man had won some kind of lottery, “isn’t that right boy?”

“Yes dad,” Cedric smirked, “the only person who could beat me will be cheering in the crowd.”

“Hermione Granger?” Kurt quirked a cheeky brow.

“You,” Cedric leaned down to kiss the boy, “silly.”

“Regardless of the outcome today,” the homely Mrs Diggory smiled the same beautiful smile of her son, “I am already so proud of you.” She kissed him on the cheek, “you have fun.”

Cedric’s parents moved to find their seats, Kurt turned to his boyfriend, “you know she has to say that because she’s your mother?”

“Yes,” Cedric looked down into Kurt’s eyes with his Hazel ones, “what do you think?”

“Everybody loves a winner,” Kurt pursed his lips, “I’m not everybody, I love you.”

Their lips met, “I love you too.”

“I have to go,” Kurt pulled back, “I need to find the time to fit Harry in before you guys start.”

“Okay,” Cedric smirked, “but when I win, it’s all about me and my temptation.”

Kurt smiled broadly, “When you win?”

“When I win,” Cedric grinned.

~0~

Kurt stood before the entrance of the maze in his Harry Potter disguise, it felt odd to have the boy’s wand in his hand instead of his own. The wand was made of a darker wood and just didn’t feel as well balanced as his, Kurt suspected that it was the missing quarter of an inch that made the wand feel all wrong. Kurt kept chanting to himself that he wasn’t breaking the law, the rules didn’t specifically make any mention of this kind of substitution and so he was in the green. He kept telling himself that if he made it to the end of this task without incidence then nobody, not even Harry, would ever have to know what they did.

The first cannon sounded and Cedric entered the maze, Kurt said a little prayer for the boy but it turned into one for all four of the champions. The wait for his turn was agonising, but soon the second cannon sounded and he was on his way. The plan was to survive, not to thrive but Kurt knew that the only way to survive is to make it the end as quickly as possible. He had one rule, he couldn’t use magic he hadn’t taught to Harry during their training session and that really limited his skill set but Kurt had done more with less.

Kurt reminded himself that the worst that could happen would be if they tried to kill him and he had a unique history with death, it had been pursuing him for most of his life and Kurt was not about to give up. Kurt had overcome death more than once and it was something he could do again. He took a deep breath as he moved closer to the Maze’s entrance he was afraid but he had beat cancer, he defeated a fully grown mountain troll whilst he was concussed, he battled a three headed dog with just his voice, he had overcome and destroyed the memory of Tom Riddle, and he’d orchestrated the most wanted man in wizarding Britain’s evasion of capture. Kurt was definitely afraid but he was also sufficiently prepared, he had nothing to fear because if anybody could come out of the other end of this mission completely unscathed, it was him.

The maze was much darker than it should have been at dusk, the high hedges that separated the trails cast a shadow on the paths. Kurt rolled his eyes at the simplicity of the task by this point, “ _lumos maxima_.” Kurt flicked the ball of light off the tip of Harry’s wand into his palm, he chuckled slightly at how unchallenged he was by this task. The path was long and narrow, there wasn’t much choice as to the path he was taking for a good while as the maze changed its course and presented him with corners that he could only follow. He came to his first intersection, there were three options; straight, left and right. The choice wasn’t a difficult one if you knew how to choose, Kurt tossed a ball of light down each path; the path on the left appeared to be a dead end but opened a little bit further when the ball of light got near, the path going straight seemed to be clear until the floor fell away a hundred metres ahead, the path on the right appeared to be completely clear. Kurt chose the path on the left, he could easily handle some devil snare with Harry’s skill set.

“Incendio,” a plume of fire shot out of Harry’s wand ahead of Kurt and the vines cleared a path for him. He ran through until he came to a clearing with strange crustaceans the size of cars; they had black shells and no identifiable heads, simply a double ended scorpion with jets that expelled fire all around their bodies, they possessed more legs than Kurt cared to count. Kurt regretted not being more familiar with the blast-ended skrewts, he had hoped that he wouldn’t have to engage them unless absolutely necessary.

Kurt took calculated steps and tried to go unseen, unheard, or unsmelt- depending on which sense the creatures used to find their prey. Kurt’s attempt at stealth was futile, as if by some unknown sense the skrewts became aware of his presence and began to blast fire in his direction as they approached at speed. Kurt was angry, fire was supposed to be his thing, how dare anyone try to use it against him, “ _Aguamenti_.” Kurt spun on the spot, soaking each of the skrewts who screeched as the water sizzled on their shells. Kurt took their temporary incapacitation as an opportunity to escape.

Kurt reoriented himself, he was taking these task slowly as he could but it seemed the maze had other ideas. Following his evasion of the blast-ended skrewts, Kurt had been pursued by the maze itself as the walls closed behind him and forced him to pick up the pace. He was in the second clearing and cowering in the corner was Cedric, he was being stalked by a large, four-legged creature that Kurt recognised to be a werewolf. It didn’t make sense, there wasn’t a full moon over head. He shook his head and the situation made itself evident, Cedric was afraid and the werewolf was getting bigger and scarier. Kurt snapped his fingers sharply and the werewolf turned to face him, transforming before his very eyes into the twisted face of Professor Moody.

“I know something you don’t,” the aged man grinned malevolently and his tongue darted out the side of his mouth, “guess that makes me smarter than you.” He clapped his hands as he moved closer to Kurt, “What are you if you aren’t smart?”

“Powerful,” Kurt grinned, pointing the tip of Harry’s wand at the man, hoping it wouldn’t fail him now, “ _riddikulus_.” Professor Moody was transformed into a ballerina, his ash blond hair pulled into a tight bun and his aged body stuffed into a leotard. Kurt giggled at first, then broke out into an outright guffaw as the boggart moved from a _demi plie_ in the fourth position to a jump and exited stage right.

Kurt instinctually helped Cedric up, “thanks, please don’t tell Kurt.” He remembered he was not himself, Kurt nodded and moved on before the boy could say anything more. Kurt realised that the longer it took him to finish the task, the longer the other three champions were in danger; Harry’s pursuer remained at large for as long as Kurt stalled and he realised for the first time that Harry’s pursuer might use the other champions to appeal to Harry’s better nature. The sooner Kurt got to where ever they wanted him to be, the quicker this would be over.

Kurt was forced to stop running when he encountered a sphinx; the creature was strange to behold because of the strange marriage of its beautiful human face, which resembled many cultural depictions of Cleopatra, and the sleek muscled body of a lion. Kurt was only familiar with muggle folklore on sphinxes and going on that, he spoke before she could speak, “I have a riddle for you.”

The beautiful face seemed unimpressed, she growled, “I give the riddles around here.”

“I know,” Kurt shrugged, “but I’m sure you’d love to have an opportunity to test that brilliant mind of yours a chance to show off just how smart you are.” Kurt smirked and he knew on the inside that it must have looked strange on Harry’s face, “The stakes are the same, just in reverse.”

“Oh,” the condescent evident in her voice, “how do you mean?”

“If you’re correct then you can eat me or whatever you do,” Kurt tried to convey an air of insecurity under the veil of arrogance he had on, “if you’re wrong then I can pass unscathed. If you don’t want to answer, then you can offer me a riddle in return.”

“Fool,” the sphinx grinned, “We sphinxes are wiser than all creatures.”

“And I’m a little unassuming Gryffindor,” Kurt smiled broadly, “I guess that makes me easy picking.”

“Exactly,” she held up her head with pride, “I accept your challenge, give me you riddle.”

“ _Paul is six feet tall, he works as a butcher’s assistant. He wears size nine shoes, what does he weigh?_ ” Kurt kept his face stony and hoped that the sphinx would follow the line of thought he hoped she would.

“Your challenge is a maths question?” she cackled jovially, “I’ve been doing derivative calculus and matrix algebra since I was a cub.” She paused and looked up, mumbling to herself about variables and body mass index windows. She stopped calculating and smiled, “assuming he fell into the healthy window of weight for his height, he would weigh between sixty kilograms and eighty-three kilograms. The shoe size was there to confuse me.”

“That’s incorrect,” Kurt smirked, “that might be how much he weighs but _what_ he weighs is meat.”

“No,” the sphinx fell to the ground and curled into a ball, “I can’t be wrong, my mind is greater than any other.”

“Possibly,” Kurt shrugged as he stepped around her, “but your listening skills could use some work.”

Kurt’s moment of gloating was cut short by a scream he assumed belonged to Fleur due to its high pitch, Kurt looked around with great haste as the scream had sounded unsettlingly near. Kurt realised that his earlier fear had been realised; as they neared the centre of the maze where the trophy was waiting to be claimed by the victor, Harry’s pursuer was making their way toward him. He had to get to the end before anyone else, not to win but to confront whoever was waiting there before anyone else suffered as Fleur might have.

Kurt moved quickly and with little regard for the obstacles that had been placed in his way, he used the knock back jinx to clear the acromantula from his path, resisting the urge to set it on fire as he had Aragog’s nest back in second year. Kurt came to the final stretch and before him at the end of a narrow path was the trophy, if he took it now then he would be the champion. Nobody would know though; they would never know that it was really him who won the tournament. He was spared from his thoughts when Cedric and Viktor fell into his path, Viktor was on top and his pupils were dilated like he was on ecstasy- the classic symptom of somebody who was sloppily bewitched.

“Stupify,” Kurt knocked the large boy off his boyfriend, Viktor lay unconscious on the ground beside Cedric.

“Thanks Potter,” Cedric smiled as Kurt helped him up.

“That’s twice now,” Kurt grinned, forgetting himself for a moment. He pulled himself towards himself quickly and redirected the moment, “so, Viktor took this a little too seriously.”

“Yeah,” Cedric shook his head.

“I think he might have been bewitched,” Kurt shook his head in time, “there was no need for him to attack you the way he did, the trophy is right there.” Kurt shrugged, realising that the threat was over, “you should take it, I’m not even supposed to be in this competition.”

“You helped me,” Cedric smiled, “twice, you deserve it.”

“You did better than me on both of the first two tasks,” Kurt smiled, “you deserve the win more, it’s only fair.”

Cedric shrugged, “if you insist.”

“I do,” Kurt leaned down beside Viktor, “I’ll take care of him, he’s innocent in all this.” Cedric took off in a light jog toward the trophy and Kurt shot up red sparks so that Viktor might be returned to the starting line, the boy played his part in the malevolent plan against Harry. It was over now. A thought suddenly occurred to Kurt; he was unscathed in all this and that meant that this might not be over, “Cedric wait.”

Kurt took off after the taller boy in brisk sprint, Harry’s legs weren’t as long as Kurt’s but he made good speed none the less- Kurt made a mental note to complement the other boy on his athletic prowess and recommend he dedicate himself to track. Kurt caught up with the boy just as he was about to grab the trophy, in an effort to prevent him from toughing it- out of a fear of an unknown number curses that might have been placed on the trophy- Kurt accidentally pushed the boy into the trophy.

~0~

Kurt jumped to his feet and looked around, his surroundings were completely foreign to him; he was standing in a graveyard with Cedric a few feet away from him, with the Triwizard Cup between them. Dusk had turned to night and the visibility was low. Kurt had only one indicator that they were somewhere in the commonwealth, the names on the grave markers were English; James Burrow, Christopher Harrison, Regina Scott, and the likes.

“The cup was a portkey,” Cedric muttered to himself, “Surprising twist.”

 “This isn’t part of the task,” Kurt’s tone was flat. He scanned the grave markers until he found something that confirmed his suspicions, “We need to get back to the cup now and hope it was a round trip.”

Cedric, who had wondered away some, spoke over his shoulder, “There’s somebody coming.”

“Cedric,” Kurt gritted his teeth, “I’m not kidding, we need to get back to the cup.” Kurt grabbed the much taller boy’s shoulder, a reminder that he wasn’t himself at present. Kurt spotted a short man coming toward them carrying a bundle like one might a baby but the object was too large to be a baby, Kurt felt like the man should have some effect on him.

“Kill the spare,” a hoarse voice that was barely above a whisper echoed through the graveyard. Kurt recognised the man to be Peter Pettigrew and by his logic, the voice was the Voldemort thing from Harry’s dream. Before Kurt could react, the man had produced a wand that looked to be an old sun-bleached bone. The wand was unlike the wands of actual bone Kurt had seen before, Kurt moved to replace Harry’s wand with his own but the man spoke words that would haunt Kurt, “ _Avada Kedavra_.”

There was a flash of green light, Kurt moved in front of Cedric and at the same time he moved, Cedric moved in front of him. They both collapsed; Kurt found himself falling, for the second time that day, onto Cedric Diggory. Kurt felt himself emptying and becoming weak as his head rested on the silent chest of the boy he loved, he didn’t have enough left in him to sob and the tears simply fell without a sound. The wind rustled around Kurt and the whispering voice spoke but the deafening silence of Cedric’s lifeless body filled Kurt’s ears without competition.

Kurt shook his head, he had always disliked Voldemort and those who served him on principal of good and evil as he was raised to understand it. Today, the Dark Lord had made the solemn mistake of making a personal enemy of Kurt; it was true that people readily earned Kurt’s ire but Kurt was forgiving by nature, and that would come to pass on its own or by apology. In this moment, in lord knows where, Kurt understood why they were called the unforgivable curses and he knew that when the time came, Voldemort would regret this day.

Kurt was pulled back to reality when his body was levitated off the ground, he made quick work of re-orientating himself. There was a caldron over a fire and Peter Pettigrew was hoisting him up toward an imposing statue of the Grim Reaper that stood over the grave that had alerted Kurt to the impending danger, the grave of Tom Riddle. Kurt noticed that the man held Harry’s wand in the hand that cradled the Dark Lord; Kurt’s own wand was in a pocket that was zipped closed and with his hands pinned to either side of his head by the statues scythe, he’d be unable to reach it without a wand to perform the _Venir_ summoning charm.

At present, his only available option seemed to be his dead boyfriend’s wand but he wasn’t sure whether it would work for him; unicorn tail hair was a far cry from Kurt’s own wand, even Harry’s phoenix tail feather wand seemed to fight him and never delivered the same kind of power as his own wand. Kurt thought quickly, Voldemort had wanted to match his power against him in the Chamber of Secrets. His inner Slytherin would goad him, make him want to prove his powers to be greater than those of the boy who lived, Kurt would have to help that need along and hope that adult Voldemort is an opponent equal to his teenage self.

Pettigrew made a show of dropping the foetal shell that was Voldemort into the boiling cauldron; Kurt’s eyes went wide and he said a prayer that they weren’t intending on feeding him Voldemort stew or worse, making him part of the stew. The short, hollowed man turned to Kurt with the wand raised. The platform that Kurt’s toes were grazing in his position of suspension, began to shake violently till it split down the middle and dirt covered radial bone emerged from the crack.

“Bone of the father, unwillingly given,” Pettigrew spoke to nobody in particular. He dropped the bone into the cauldron and Kurt wanted even less to maybe have to eat that. Pettigrew dropped Harry’s wand and picked up a sharp dagger, this was Kurt’s chance; when he turned back to add the next ingredient Kurt would strike. The man moved toward him and Kurt hoped he’d get a chance to make his move, Pettigrew ripped the sleeve of Harry’s quidditch jersey and Kurt was thankful he wasn’t wearing any of his own clothes. The blade made a cut along the underside of Kurt’s arm, the pain cause Kurt to cry out. Pettigrew turned to the caldron and flicked a few drops of Kurt’s blood into the pot, “Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken.”

“I was unwilling anyway,” Kurt snapped, “you could have pricked my finger for the same effect.” Pettigrew took a moment to chuckle, and Kurt the same to strike. Kurt whispered, “ _Accio_ wand.”

Harry’s wand moved quickly from the ground into Kurt’s waiting hand, as Pettigrew moved the blade to his own wrist. Kurt was shocked when the man severed his hand with a cry, “flesh of the servant, willingly given.” The man sobbed and the potion boiled more violently than ever, “And now Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord shall rise again.”

Kurt watched in awe as the caldron, burst into flames and rose off the ground. The black metal of the caldron evaporated into a black smoke that swirled around the former contents, the contents shaped themselves into a humanoid shape and the black smoke formed robes and covered the shape as it took on more distinguishing features. Kurt expected an older version of the handsome teenager from the Diary but instead the figure was serpentine; with pale skin that possessed the slight tinge of green like the underside of a serpent, no nose to speak of, and lips so thin that they might as well have been none.

Kurt swallowed hard, when the man laid eyes on his reflection he would know immediately that something was wrong; that he’d gotten the wrong brand of teenager. Kurt did not move, fear and self-preservation kept him firmly in place, trying not to draw any attention to himself because when the man realised that he no longer resembled Colin Firth in _Another Country_ he would be very angry. Voldemort opened his eyes, they were blood red, and Kurt held his breath; the man gave a smile of sharp serpentine teeth.

“Master,” Pettigrew bowed and extended his remaining hand with the wand in hand.

Voldemort grabbed the wand and flourished it slightly, reacquainting himself with the extension of himself. He nodded to himself and turned back to Pettigrew, “Your arm Wormtail.”

Still bowing Pettigrew extended the still fresh stump, “thank you master.”

“The other arm fool,” the man snapped in a voice that was hoarse, as if he needed to clear his throat really badly. Kurt was tempted to offer him a throat lozenge but he didn’t bring any because he didn’t think he’d be meeting the Dark Lord nor that the man would be in the process of fighting a cold. Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark on Pettigrew’s forearm and the clouds churned into a Dark Mark that was quite quickly broken by streaks of black smoke ripping through it to land on the ground around the Dark Lord in a perfect Circle, give or take a few spaces.

Kurt was concerned by how at ease he was as part of the circle, had they unintentionally created a formation in such a way as to leave him the spaces that would be filled by his parents? Would they be here if they weren’t in Azkaban? Or would the Dark Lord have tasked them with retrieving Harry Potter and they’d be on the other end awaiting instruction?

“My friends,” Voldemort flourished his robes as he turned to speak to each of the masked men in pointy black robes that reminded Kurt of the Ku Klux Klan, “thirteen years since we last met. Thirteen long years yet it feels as if it were only yesterday.” Kurt wanted to shout out that it was closer to fourteen years by now but he chose to hold his tongue, “I must say, I am very disappointed that it took thirteen years for this meeting to happen and it’s all because none of you tried to find me.”

There was an almost tangible silence in the darkened graveyard, Voldemort moved around the circle menacingly, grabbing each of the Death Eaters’ masks and calling their name, “Crabbe. Avery. Macnair. Goyle. Walden.” He stopped suddenly and turned to the man who was directly opposite to where Kurt was standing, “not even you Lucius.”

“My lord,” Draco’s father fell to his knees before his master, “if I had caught even an echo of a whisper that you were still alive, Id’ have returned in a heartbeat.”

“There were whispers,” Voldemort snapped angrily. Kurt’s mind began to work, ‘ _His return is almost upon us, heed the whispers_ ’ Kurt’s blood ran cold, the line that followed that one in the prophecy given to him by the man from Hogsmead had been frightening, ‘ _You who shall most shame your mother, must most fear his return_ ’. The words had meant nothing to Kurt when he had a dead mother and he’d disregarded the lot, but now he knew that he had a living mother in Azkaban and that the ‘He’ referred to in the prophesy had returned; was Kurt going to die here as well? This brought back the question, who were the _Dark_ and the _twice named_?

Kurt’s mind cleared when the monster approached Cedric’s lifeless body, “if you touch him I will chop you up and make a stew that I will serve to your followers.” Kurt didn’t care if that didn’t sound like Harry Potter, it was how he felt. He returned his attention to the moment as all eyes fell upon him, while he’d been in his own head about the moment; Mr Malfoy had removed his hood to reveal platinum blond extensions and Pettigrew had received a silver hand, “Mr Potter, We’d almost forgotten you had decided to join us.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt shook his head, “go right ahead, just point me toward the nearest A-road and I’ll be out of your-” Kurt stopped mid-sentence when his gaze landed on the man’s bald head, “on my way.”

Voldemort grinned, and Mr Malfoy spoke, “He’s astoundingly arrogant.”

“Silence Lucius,” the man grinned, Kurt was glad he was hitting the right tone because Mr Malfoy could easily expose him for a fraud. If Kurt had to resist pursing his lips then he was glad to be acknowledged for his efforts. “Nonsense,” Voldemort’s words were directed at him this time, “You’re our guest of honour. We even have you standing on the bones of my father, a place befitting somebody of your supposed celebrity status.”

“The boy who lived. A legend based on lies, weak ones at that!” Voldemort moved closer to Kurt, when he was a few inches away he turned to his comrades, “would you like to hear how it is that I lost my powers that Halloween night in Grodric’s Hollow all those years ago? How a baby supposedly defeated a wizard of my stature?”

“Tell us Master,” Crabbe grovelled, more eloquently than his son.

“You see,” The man paced as he spoke, “when dear, sweet Lilly Potter refused to step aside and died in your place, she created a protection around you with her love.” The man smile, “the very protection that prevented me from touching you.”

Kurt took a deep breath; he didn’t have that kind of protection, the Unspeakables in the hall of mysteries were still trying to understand how love worked as magic. He was going to die because he assumed that by being a better student than Harry Potter, he was better suited to fill the boy’s shoe than the boy himself. If Kurt died now, his corpse would look like Harry Potter forever and his father wouldn’t be able to say goodbye properly; that was reason enough to survive this, he’d managed once without a protective enchantment and he’d do it again.

“But by using your blood in this spell, I have broken the enchantment,” Voldemort was now so close that Kurt could see Harry Potter in the man’s eyes, “I can touch you now.”

“So,” Kurt summoned his best Harry Potter impersonation for this moment with the man’s finger pressed on the impression of the scar on his forehead, “you could have done this spell a year ago but you waited so you could touch a little boy? What do you gain from this?”

“Now,” Voldemort smiled through his obvious confusion at the lack of outward fear, “I can kill you and dispel all rumours that you were ever my equal.”

Kurt wanted to grin, he knew he wasn’t an equal to Voldemort but his false confidence seemed to be translating into real confidence. The man waved his wand and the statue dropped Kurt, he tucked and rolled to a standing position with the cup and Cedric’s corpse behind him.

Kurt stood with Harry’s wand outstretched toward Voldemort, “You’ve been taught how to duel, I assume?” the man pointed his wand at Kurt who nodded and bowed, Voldemort seemed surprised but returned the action, “and then, we begin.”

“ _Stupify_ ,” Kurt cast the first spell but Voldemort effortlessly deflected it without much effort.

The Dark Lord smiled, “ _Crucio_.” Kurt’s muscles stiffened and it felt as if he were being pushed down onto a bed of nails, it was different from the last time he’d been subjected to the curse; Kurt screamed, the pain was all physical this time. Voldemort was near giddy, “ _Crucio_. Would your filthy muggle mother be proud Harry?”

The pain stopped and Kurt thought for a moment, how had he defeated Tom Riddle two years ago? Kurt wracked his mind, sifting through tons of information as the man completed his monologue about destroying the idea of Harry Potter. It frustrated Kurt how calm he was when Kurt was panicking and about to lose his life, then the memory tome Kurt had been searching for jumped out at him. Kurt had defeated Tom by making him too angry to think straight, “yes.”

“What was that boy?”

“Yes,” Kurt grinned, “my mother is very proud of me, I became everything she died to protect.” The man’s eyes went wide with disbelief, “tell me, how does your muggle father feel about the monster you’ve become? _Stupify_.”

The Death Eaters moved to the ready to attack as Voldemort was flung a few feet back, one stepped forward but Voldemort intervened, “leave him, he’s mine to defeat.”

“It would only remind people that you’re just like me if they helped,” Kurt grinned, his Harry Potter impression now based solely on mannerisms, “your followers will lose respect for you when they realise that you’re not the man you’ve let them believe that you are, the muggle blood in your veins is testament to that.”

Kurt backed away slowly, the man gritted his teeth and Kurt moved to the right as the tombstone behind where he’d been standing exploded. Kurt knew that he had created the right conditions to ensure his survival, now he needed an exit strategy. He moved behind tombstones with speed, each exploding as he move on to the next one. Kurt spotted the lifeless body of Cedric, now across from where he was standing, and a few feet away was the Triwizard Cup; it might be Kurt’s only hope, if it was enchanted as a return trip.

Kurt took a deep breath, his knees were shaking but now was the time to do something crazy and determine his future; it was a do or die moment and he wished he’d been a Gryffindor because then he’d just do it instead of trying to assess the empirical data and work out the probability of success. Kurt took a deep breath, wishing he could do this as himself, and came out from behind the remains of the tombstone he had been hiding behind, “ _Expilliarmus_.”

“ _Avada Kedavra_ ,” the man exclaimed as soon as part of Kurt was visible; the green light of his curse and the red of Kurt’s compressed into streams of concentrated magic and connected. The light created by the point of connection was so bright that for the first time Kurt could see far off into the distance to where a small village peaked out between two hills. Standing between Kurt and his ticket home was the most feared wizard in modern history, all he had to do was cover the space between them and break the stream without dying- not necessarily in that order.

Kurt took a step forward and increased the effort he was using, there were bolts of lightning as the ball of light moved toward Voldemort. The man pushed forward and it seemed to create a moment of suspended animation; the handsome face of Cedric Diggory emerged from the tip of his wand, followed by an elderly man in coveralls, a middle-aged woman in camping gear, a young woman and a man with a stark resemblance to the face Kurt was currently wearing.

“Hold on Harry,” the woman’s voice was maternal and made Kurt feel like he was imposing upon an intimate moment.

“Yes,” Mr Potter gave a small smile, “When we tell you to, let go.”

“We’ve got you,” the woman in camping gear agreed, Kurt suspected it was the witch who went missing and ruined his summer travel plans, “You know, I’ve always wanted to meet Harry Potter.”

The man in the coveralls was too fascinated by his surroundings to speak but Cedric’s spectre moved closer, and seemed to whisper to Kurt without knowing he was doing so, “Take my body back with you. Tell Kurt that I was not afraid of death and that life was good to me because I got love him as hard as I did, but there comes a point in love when you have to let go.”

“Let go,” Mrs Potter gave a small sob, “Let Go Harry.”

Kurt let the spell lapse and took off in a run as fast as Harry’s legs could carry him; Voldemort was swamped by the spectres of his murder victims. He threw himself over Cedric Diggory’s body and extended his wand hand toward the Triwizard Cup, “ _Accio_ cup.” The cup flew across the grass an into Kurt’s hands, allowing Kurt to relax as the possibility of dying receded.

~0~

The enormity of what he’d just been through caught up with Kurt once more for a sliver of time, he stayed in place with his ear pressed to the silent chest of the boy he loved, sobbing softly. There were cheers outside his bubble, camera bulbs burned brightly, there was happiness but his bubble was pure sadness, Cedric had been unafraid to die but that didn’t mean he should have died. Kurt was returned to the moment when Professor McGonagall grabbed him by the shoulders, he looked into her sad eyes and the cheering stopped as everyone’s gaze upon Cedric’s lifeless body.

“Potter,” Professor McGonagall’s voice was soft and soothing, “what happened?”

“He’s back,” Kurt could hear how broken Harry’s voice sounded, “Voldemort’s back.” Professor McGonagall withdrew her hand like his words had burnt her, “Voldemort is back and he killed Cedric.”

Professor McGonagall whispered something in Professor Dumbledore’s ear but through the hushed voices came one above the rest, louder than the silence in Cedric’s chest was a broken hearted wail, “that’s my boy, my son, my baby.” Amos Diggory pushed his way through the crowd from his reserved spot, he fell to his knees beside the lifeless body, “not my son, not my Cedric. No, no, no. It can’t be.”

Kurt closed the hazel eyes that once stared so intently at him and looked up at the man and his wife behind them as they grieved their only child, “I’m so sorry.”

Kurt felt himself being dragged to his feet and dragged away. By the time he pulled himself toward himself, he realised that it was Professor Moody who was pulling him away from the crowd.

~0~

“ _Animare iterum_ ,” Kurt kneeled before Harry as the boy rose to a sitting position. Before Harry could form his words Kurt broke into sobs, this was the first time that he gave himself the opportunity to truly grieve the boy he loved and it was an overwhelming feeling. Kurt’s voice was shaking as much as his body when he spoke, “He’s dead.”

“Kurt,” Harry shook as they touched foreheads, Kurt’s tears wetting Harry’s face. Kurt looked into the boy’s emerald green eyes, the memory that they put into his mind was translating into emotions and the experience was becoming real for him, “Kurt.”

“I love him so much,” Kurt shook uncontrollably. He realised what he’d done, he’d referred to Cedric in the present tense but the hazel eyed boy was now exclusively in Kurt’s past, “I loved him so much and he died.” Kurt wiped his face, “why is the world so mean to me? Why does life keep taking the people I love away from me?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Harry whispered, the darker haired boy was holding back sobs and trying to show face for Kurt, “I wish there was something I could say, something I could do.”

“There’s nothing to say,” Kurt shook his head, he touched foreheads with Harry once more. Kurt wiped his face and steeled his features, “nothing to do but carry on with the plan.”

“The plan?” Harry held Kurt by the shoulders and moved him from touching foreheads to arms-length, “Kurt, what have you done?”

“I did it for you,” Kurt sobbed but took another breath, he shook the emotion out of his voice, “I didn’t know this would happen but I just wanted to give you a chance. I didn’t know he needed to be protected till it was too late, I only thought of you. I just wanted to give you a chance.”

“A chance? A chance at what?” Harry furrowed his brow, “what did you do?”

“I took your place,” Kurt took a deep breath, he was back in control now, “you’ve been burdened enough by Voldemort, since you were a baby you’ve been famous for something you had no conscious hand in. Bound to the darkest wizard in recorded history and unable to make your own choices, if he had used your blood in that spell then I knew that you would have been bound to him until one of you died. You’re free.”

“Oh Kurt,” the horror on Harry’s face was impossible to hide. Kurt waited as the boy tried to make sense of what he was being told, “Oh Kurt, oh Kurt.”

“When you told me that he said that you were ‘everything’ in your dream,” Kurt took a deep steadying breath, “and you were inexplicably picked as the fourth champion in Triwizard Tournament, I knew the two were related and all I knew was that I needed to find a way to keep you away from him. We all agreed; Ron, Hermione, Luna, me and later Neville.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry was shaking.

Kurt grabbed him and they touched foreheads once more, “Luna took your place in the second task and I took your place in the third task. Voldemort has my blood, not yours.”

Harry shook his head, “What have you done?”

“I’ve given you a choice, just like everyone else gets to choose,” Kurt gave a weak smile and gently pinched Harry’s cheek, “you can be a hero, tell everyone that Voldemort’s returned and you fought him. Tell everyone the story and make them believe it.”

“Or.”

“You can bow out,” Kurt smiled, “I’ll tell everyone the truth and we can go forward from there.”

“Is it even a choice?” Harry mumbled.

Kurt rolled his eyes, “don’t pull that stupid Gryffindor crap on me, make a choice.”

“That stupid Gryffindor crap is part of who I am,” Harry smiled but the sadness didn’t dissipate, “I’m glad you cared enough to do all this for me but I will always choose to be a hero.”

“I know,” Kurt gave a weak smile, “but for a change you weren’t chosen, you got the opportunity to make your own choices.”


	15. Chapter 15

Kurt and Harry were kneeling on the floor of Professor Moody’s office when the door flew off its hinges and landed with a loud thud, Kurt wiped the tears from his face and schooled his features. Professor McGonagall entered with her wand at the ready, she was flanked by the headmaster and Professor Snape, “Are you two alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged, “as much as we can be.” He tilted his head in the direction of Barty Crouch Jr’s bound body, “Kurt took care of it.”

Professor Snape moved swiftly, he lifted the man into the office chair and tilted his head back, pouring a small vial of liquid down his throat. Professor Dumbledore spoke once he was satisfied that Barty Crouch Jr had swallowed all of the potion, “how are you here?”

“My dying mother came to visit me,” the young man gave a malevolent smile, “we traded places and she died in Azkaban in my place, my father kept me under lock and key till the Dark Lord came to help set me free from the imperious curse my father had me under so I could do his bidding at the World Cup Final.” He let out a manic cackle, “In return for my freedom my ever generous master asked me to deliver Harry Potter to him. After learning that Alastor Moody would be taking the position of Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts position, I attacked him and took his place.”

“Did you put my name into the cup?” Harry snapped angrily.

“Yes,” he grinned, “I also made your dragon more aggressive so you would seek my council, I never considered that your friend would play such an active role.”

“Is that why you’ve been tarnishing Kurt’s record with the staff?” Professor Snape spoke in a clipped tone that was almost defensive of Kurt.

“Yes,” the man grinned, “among other reasons.”

“Where is the real Professor Moody?” Kurt interjected before the man could say anymore.

“In the chest,” Barty Crouch twitched, “I would have loved to have killed him but I needed fresh specimens for the potion.” He grinned, “I made the best of a bad situation. He deserved everything he got, it was because of him that I was imprisoned in Azkaban; he’s the one who captured us and brought us in.”

Professor Snape turned to the chest that Barty Crouch Jr had pointed out, with a flick of his wand the lid of the chest flew off and revealed a deeper interior than the exterior led one to believe; the work of an undetectable extension charm. At the very bottom of the chest, in his stained unisuit was Professor Moody. Professor Snape made quick work of helping the man out of the chest.

“Professor McGonagall,” the headmaster spoke, “send an owl to Azkaban, they’ll be glad to hear we’ve located an escapee.”

“I’m not going back to Azkaban,” the man shook his head, “I came into this operation with an exit strategy. As I said before, it was among other reasons and wouldn’t you love to hear the main reason for my deformation of the character of Kurt Elizabeth Hummel?” He cackled loudly once more, “I’d like to tell you all a little story;

***

Bellatrix kicked over the dining room table and let loose a mad cackle, “Word around town is that you’ve been flapping your lips and handing out prophecies, we find that odd because we also hear you denied the Dark Lord’s invitation to give him a prophecy.”

“How’s it going Professor Mopsus?” her brother-in-law gave the man a sinister smile, “remember me?”

“You fool,” her husband looked embarrassed by his brother’s behaviour, “he’s blind, he can’t see you, if you want him to remember who you are then you should give him a clue but I’m sure your stupidity will suffice.”

“You know Ruddy, you're very rude and some of the things you say are hurtful,” Rebastan crossed his arms in a mock sulk.

“If you two are quite done,” their young apprentice rolled his eyes, “We have work to do.”

“Bartemius, is that you?” The man spoke, on his knees before the group, “Since when do you keep the company of the LeStrange family?” The man sniffed the air like a blood hound, “And which one is smoking in my house?”

“Told you he’d remember me,” Rebastan exclaimed gleefully, “Time to pay for giving me a ‘dreadful’ on my OWL.”

“You only got a dreadful,” Bellatrix raised a curious brow, “he was more generous with you than I would have been.”

“I was a lot more generous then I should have been,” The man agreed.

“Tell us, Mopsus,” Bella let out a small giggle, “can I call you Argyris? I’ll call you Argyris.”

Their young apprentice was fuming, “Does it really matter what you call him? So long as we get the Dark Lord’s work done.”

“Come here,” Rudolphus pulled the young boy aside, “You speak to my wife like that again and I’ll break every bone in your body, I’ll leave you within an inch of your life and when you recover I’ll start all over again.” The tall imposing man slung his arm over the younger man’s slender frame and put his cigarette out in the side of his apprentice’s neck, “I get that you’re new at this but if you’re going to be in the business of Death Eating with us then you’re going to need a little style.”

Bellatrix watched gleefully as her husband turned and kicked Mopsus square in the stomach, a wild cackle escaped her as her excitement grew, “Now, Argyris, tell us about the seer who is set to replace you at Hogwarts because my inner eye is telling me you won’t be making it back.”

“Her words will be truer than you can imagine,” the man spluttered, between coughs of blood.

“ _Crucio_ ,” Bellatrix smiled as she watched the man writher at her hand, she leaned in close to his aged face, “that’s not the answer we’re looking for.” She turned to her apprentice, “be a honey and get me a knife from the kitchen, doesn’t have to be sharp. I’d actually prefer a blunt one.”

“Can I have a small prophecy? Will I ever find a wife?” Rebastan pushed the man onto his front and dislocated his right shoulder, the man cried out loudly, “tell us what we ask and we’ll kill you painlessly.”

“I’ve lived a full life,” the man spat blood onto the carpet, “I’ll die with my honour, thank you very much.”

“Silly man,” Rebastan smiled broadly, “we’re not letting you die with your teeth, what makes you think we’ll let you off with you honour?”

Their young accomplice handed Bellatrix a large chef’s knife, she gave him a sinister smile. She fell to her knees beside the splayed man, gripping his wrist firmly between her knees, “Now, Argyris, get ready for the fun to begin.” She smiled broadly as she began to etch the letter ‘B’ into the tender flesh of blind seer’s forearm, her penmanship was skewed by his wrinkles but she thought the general idea was getting through.

“What should I do Madam LeStrange?” the young man asked as he watched Rudolphus rolling up the sleeves of his white oxford shirt.

“Do what comes naturally,” Bellatrix looked up only for a moment before diving back to her letter carving, “but be sure to keep in step with the rest, nothing is worse than when somebody ends a torture early.”

The man’s screams filled the entire room and reverberated off the walls, they knew nobody would come to his aid and Rebastan didn’t skip a beat- taunting the man to the inevitability of the situation, “scream louder Professor Mopsus, nobody will dare come. _Crucio_.”

“Nobody is foolish enough to stand up against us,” Rudolphus taunted as he tried to get good footing atop the man’s back, “and those who do shall perish.” He bent over and grabbed the man’s ankle and with great force pulled the old brittle bones out of their socket, “that sound of breaking bones, it never gets old.”

Bellatrix held up the arm, showing all her handy work, “if his skin wasn’t a disgusting pile of phlegm then my lettering would be better.”

“What does it say?” Rudolphus tilted his head and squinted as he tried to decipher the lettering.

“Boob baitor,” Rebastan exclaimed.

“Blood traitor,” Bellatrix rolled her eye, “Fool, but then again, reading was never one of your strong points.”

“Sometimes I wish you’d gotten a better wife,” Rebastan turned to his brother angrily, “one who would know to hold her tongue in the presence of a man.”

“But her tongue is one of my favourite parts of her,” Rudolphus wagged a suggestive brow, “especially in the presence of her man.”

Bellatrix gave her husband a suggestive grin and growl, “ _crucio_.”

“Especially on her knees,” he purred in response.

“Is now really the time?” the young man looked up from where he was breaking and mending fingers, “kind of in the middle of a torture.”

Rudolphus grabbed the man by the chin, “Speak, then die.”

Argyris Mopsus reached out a hand and placed it on Bellatrix’s belly, “ _That which shall most shame you festers inside you, Bellatrix LeStrange_.”

There was silence for a moment then the couple broke out into mad fits of laughter, “somebody is going to have gas at tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Maybe you’re going to take a mega-dump in a public restroom and it won’t flush,” Rebastan chuckled.

“Foolish man,” Bellatrix shook her head in disbelief, “ _Avada Kadavra_.”

***

_Three months later…_

“Bella,” her fair haired sister smiled at her, “to what do I owe this pleasure.”

“I have news Cissy,” Bellatrix peered nervously around the great room, “are we alone?”

“Yes,” Narcissa smiled broadly and more genuinely, “I have some news of my own, why must we be alone?”

“My news is not good,” she fell into the couch, twiddling her thumbs nervously, “it’s not good at all Cissy.”

Narcissa fell down into the seat beside her and clutched her hand tightly, “Are you unwell?”

“In a sense, yes,” Bellatrix took a deep breath, “I’m with child.”

Narcissa gasped joyously, “Oh Bella, I too am with child.”

“This is not a moment for rejoicing,” Bellatrix snapped and Narcissa shrank where she sat, “You don’t understand. For you, this is one of the greatest moments of your life, but this means nothing but trouble for me.”

Narcissa dropped her voice to a whisper, “did you stray?”

“What?” understanding dawned on Bellatrix, “No, the child is Rudolphus’s, obviously.”

“Right,” Narcissa nodded then stopped and gave her sister a quizzical glance, “then why… all of this?”

“You will think me a fool but,” Bellatrix took a deep breath, “I have reason to believe the worst of this child.”

“You and Rudolphus are both descendants of Sacred Twenty-Eight families,” Narcissa’s eyes were open wide as she eyed her sister, “what would make you think the worst.”

“The seer,” Bellatrix shrank in a way Narcissa had never seen her do before, “Argyris Mopsus.”

“The one you… worked on,” Bellatrix snorted at how her sister feigned ignorance, “what does he have to do with the price of eggs?”

“Just before dying, he grabbed my belly and said that which most would shame me festered inside me,” Bellatrix nervously tugged at her hair, “don’t you see it, he has looked into my future and seen me bare a squib.”

“I refuse to believe it,” Narcissa shook her head, “what makes you think it so?”

“Those were his chosen last words,” Bellatrix explained, “the legacy he leaves for those who caused him unknown pain.”

Narcissa raised a curious brow, “Then why not take the potion? You know-”

“I know the one,” Bellatrix snapped angrily, “I’m too far along, I’ve taken it three times and it doesn’t work when you’re more than three months along.”

“Go into hiding,” Narcissa suggested, “I shall keep your secret till after your return.”

“Keep my secret…” Bellatrix mulled this over in her mind for a moment before shooting to her feet triumphantly, “You shall be my secret keeper.”

“The Fidelius charm?” Narcissa shook her head, “that’s only for locations, how would that help us now?”

“A uterus is a location,” Bellatrix shrugged, “where’s my foetus?”

“In your uterus,” Narcissa smiled her understanding.

“The Dark Lord is too dependent on me, I cannot simply disappear,” Bellatrix drummed her fingers together sinisterly, “this way nobody will know unless they are told, nobody will recognise this for what it truly is unless they know.”

“Then what of the child when we’ve hidden the pregnancy,” Narcissa raised a questioning brow, “what becomes of him?”

“We’ll dispose of it,” Bellatrix waved a dismissive hand at her sister, “it’s brilliant.”

“Are you sure I shouldn’t just push you down a flight of stairs?” Narcissa sneered at her sister.

“And what if I break my neck?” Bellatrix raised an accusatory brow, “don’t you think I’d thought of that one?”

“Wow,” Narcissa chuckled, “you definitely are not the maternal sort.”

“Where would I have learnt it with a mother as cold as ours?” Bellatrix chuckled for a moment before schooling her features, “we’ll have to send an owl out and get the existing witnesses in on the plan.”

“Existing witnesses?” Narcissa quirked quizzical brow.

“Yes,” Bellatrix spoke as scribbled on Narcissa’s personalised stationary, “Rudolphus, Rebastan and Bartemius were all there when that accursed man spewed his venom.”

***

_27 th May 1980…_

The cold words had been spoken and they would never again discuss this day with anyone but those who’d been present, Narcissa had one last task to complete, “Kreacher.”

“Yes Mistress,” Kreacher bowed before a heavily pregnant Narcissa.

“I need for you to dispose of this,” Narcissa handed the sleeping bundle over, “discreetly.”

“Kreacher lives to serve the Noble and Most Ancient House Black,” the wrinkled house elf dissapparited and it was over.

***

…You see,” the man licked his lips, “I made the unbreakable vow that I would never tell anyone outside that room that Bellatrix and Rudolphus LeStrange had a son, and that son is standing in this Room, a son who goes by Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.”

The man’s breath caught, his eyes bulged out and he scratched at his throat as if trying to force a breath, he managed to scratch the skin raw until he seemed to have no more energy and he slumped in his seat- dead. Kurt turned away, that was the second dead body of the day and the second Barty Crouch in as many weeks.

~0~

Kurt sat in one of three occupied beds in the Hospital Wing, the others were fill by Harry Potter and the real Alastor Moody- Kurt wasn’t sure whether it was proper to call the man Professor when he’d never taught a single class. Kurt was propping up a sobbing Finn whilst he was being administer fluids; officially, for dehydration but unofficially, for blood loss. The taller, larger teen was sobbing heavily into the shoulder of Kurt’s cashmere cardigan and had been doing so for an hour. Kurt was watching tentatively as Harry retold the story of the third task and skirmish at the graveyard; first to Professor Dumbledore, then Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, Head of the Auror Office Investigation Department Hau Xun, and finally to Mrs Weasley.

Cornelius Fudge stood up and replaced his bowler hat, after having heard the story four times, “I’ve heard enough.” Kurt sat upright as a shaggy black dog entered the Hospital wing and sat at the foot of Harry’s bed, “I best be returning to the Ministry, the matter will be investigated.”

Kurt let out a tired scoff, “And you expect us to just wait to die whilst you do what? Wait for report that might take years to assemble? The Dark Lord’s return is an imminent threat.”

“You best check your tone when speaking to me,” Cornelius Fudge crossed his arms, “I am the Minister for Magic.”

“Yes, and as such you serve at the pleasure of the people,” Kurt spoke firmly whilst soothing Finn, “We are the people and we’re telling you that the most dangerous wizard in recorded history is once more at large. You need to take immediate action.”

“You say this because Mr Potter says so,” the man scoffed.

“I say this because one of his followers posed as a Hogwarts teacher for the entire academic year. I say so because one of my friends had his arm sliced open as part of some dark ritual,” Kurt took a deep breath, “I say so because people have started disappearing like they did before, and I say so because he’s been back less than twenty-four hours and somebody is already dead.”

“Minister Fudge,” Harry pleaded, “please listen to reason.”

“As I’ve said, I must be off,” He turned to Professor Dumbledore, “please don’t startle the student with unsubstantiated rumours.”

“Minister,” Hermione spoke for the first time when the man reached the door, “you can gag the headmaster and the staff but that doesn’t change what we know and it doesn’t make it any less true. We lost a friend today, somebody we loved and you can’t stop us from telling people how we lost somebody who meant the world to us.” Hermione’s calm demeanour made her words so much more impactful, “People need to know what happened to Cedric Diggory, people need to know that they are in danger of the same fate, and you can’t stop us from telling people.”

“He was one of my best friends,” Finn sobbed, “to deny the way he died is to deny everything he was when he was alive.”

The man did not speak but simply vibrated as he exited the room. Kurt clasped Hermione’s hands between his own and smiled appreciatively, he then turned to Professor Dumbledore, “what’s happening?”

“Times have changed,” Professor Dumbledore shrugged.

“Is this really the time?” Kurt quirked a brow, “What about Rita Skeeter? She seems to permanently have her ear to the ground.”

“What’s going on?” Finn looked around groggily, “Do I need a consent form for this?”

”No Finn,”  Hermione shook her head. She got to her feet, grabbing her purse and throwing it into the adjoining bathroom, “there, now it’s a safe space.”

“Rita Skeeter is in your backpack?” Finn furrowed his brow.

“Yes,” Hermione smirked. Hermione gave a gentle smile and laid a hand on the boy’s broad shoulders, “I’m going to need you to be calm and not freak out.” She turned to Mrs Weasley and Bill, who had been joined by Mr Weasley, “I’m going to need you to listen to reason.”

Kurt looked on appreciatively; Professor Dumbledore lacked the timing that this delicate situation required, Harry was too impassioned on the matter, and Ron lacked the eloquence to complete the task; without Hermione, the onus would fall on Kurt. she spoke in a controlled and level voice, designed to curb panic, “For so long, what we’ve known of the events leading up to the deaths of Lily and James Potter has been incorrect. When the couple and their young son went into hiding, they used the fidelius charm to hide their location and entrusted on of their friends as the secret keeper.”

“Sirius Black,” Mrs Weasley scoffed.

“So most people believed,” Hermione continued, “based on the testimony of those who witnessed his murder of Peter Pettigrew. The little known truth is that Pettigrew was the real secret keeper and as such the real betrayer.” Hermione paused for effect, letting everyone process what she was saying, “Pettigrew was an unregistered animagus and, after killing those twelve muggles in the explosion meant to fake his death, went into hiding as a rat.”

“Scabbers,” Ron added, “Sirius broke out of Azkaban after seeing him in that picture of us in Egypt. He’s never been after Harry, we’ve been helping him evade capture because there wasn’t enough evidence for an acquittal.” Kurt turned and gaped at his friend who looked down at his hands guiltily, “by we, I mean Kurt. we’ve mostly been undoing his hard headedness.”

“What a… woah,” Mrs Weasley would have taken a seat if she weren’t already sitting down.

“Why are you telling us this?” Mr Weasley had his usual grin on his face, “not that this isn’t a fun story, learning one of your children and their friends are accessories to a crime is always interesting.”

“They’re telling ‘us’ this because Sirius Black is in this room,” Finn wiped his face, “He’s the big black dog.” When Sirius turned from dog to man; Mr Weasley chuckled, Mrs Weasley gasped, Bill had a dizzy spell and Finn turned to Kurt, “I think I’m all cried out, I’m going to go rehydrate.”

“Sure baby,” Kurt smiled, “maybe have a sandwich too.” Kurt watched his brother leave and turned to Professor Dumbledore with an expectant brow raised, “please explain why we’re risking prison.”

“The times are about to change as they did before,” Professor Dumbledore shook his head tiredly, “I have tasked Sirius with holding down fort for a task that, when the time is right, you will all be called upon to participate in.”

“I also wanted to see my God-son,” Sirius added, “I heard he was used as an ingredient in a stew.”

“Being in the stew was the easy part,” Harry chuckled, the blood loss was a bitch.”

Kurt shook his head, “Keeping us in the dark doesn’t help anyone.” He took a deep breath and tucked his knees into himself as he folded himself, “if there’s a plan we need to know what it is and we need to be a part of it.”

“But you’re only children,” protested Mrs Weasley.

“It won’t stop Voldemort from killing us,” Kurt scoffed, “do you think he checked Cedric’s ID before having him killed?” Mrs Weasley was silent, “with all due respect, and I can only speak for myself here, we can be a part of the adult plan or we can make our own which will be much more dangerous.”

Mrs Weasley gaped at Kurt, then she turned to Professor Dumbledore, “Albus, tell them.”

“Molly,” Sirius tried to intervene, “it’s a delicate situation.”

“You don’t have eight kids looking to you for protection and guidance,” Mrs Weasley’s presence became too large for the room, “I will school you on the delicacy of situations.”

“It’s alright,” Professor Dumbledore raised a hand to silence the man, “Molly, Kurt, I have tasked Sirius with manning Order of the Phoenix headquarters. I have further tasked; Alastor with gathering members from the Aurors office, Remus with gathering old members, Hagrid and Madame Maxime will try to rally the giants, and I have intentions of asking Charlie to be our presence on the international stage.”

“That wasn’t so hard,” Kurt chuckled. He spotted Finn in the doorway with Neville, Luna and the remaining Weasleys in tow, “Can we have the room? I’d like to discuss somethings with my friends and my dehydration is keeping me put and so is Harry’s blood loss.”

As soon as the room was clear, Harry gave him a queer look, “they told us their plan, why do we need the room?”

“Because we’re obviously going to have to do our own thing,” Hermione smiled warmly, “I’m just not sure what yet.”

“This… this war,” Luna shuddered, “will inform the rest of our lives, it will set the tone for our futures regardless of whether we live to see the other side or not.”

“What Luna means,” Hermione’s voice was low yet firm, “is that there needs to be an independent youth proponent because the rest of our lives is theoretically so much longer than theirs.”

“I just wanted to make sure that we were all on the same page,” there were nods of affirmation, “you need to encourage your friends to keep the same mentality.”

~0~

Kurt sat on the bench that overlooked the whomping willow, he took long deep drags of his cigarette and let the smoke escape in small plumes of grey fluff. It felt right to be sitting on this bench, it was the spot where the last era of his life had begun; this was the spot where Cedric had first kissed him. This bench overlooking the whomping willow was where Kurt had first realised that his feelings for Cedric were more than a passing crush and today marked the day when he had to accept that Cedric was now only part of his past.

Kurt had discussed today’s memorial with Cedric’s parents and was ready to say goodbye for the last time, just as they had at the funeral; Kurt had known that day that he couldn’t say goodbye, not until he’d said his piece today. He had to hold on to the boy and the grief because he needed both for maximum impact.

“Kurt,” Hermione’s voice was small, cautious. She’d been treating him like an egg since he broke down in tears at Cedric’s funeral, “we’re ready for you.”

Kurt incinerated the cigarette bud, when there was nothing left but ash in the palm of his hand he let the wind carry it away. Kurt got to his feet and turned to Hermione who was dressed in a black A-line dress with a Peter pan collar, he frowned as he looked her up and down, “Oh Hermione, you’re wearing flat shoes like my boyfriend isn’t dead.” Kurt shook his head and smoothed his suit, “How do I look?”

Hermione didn’t answer, she just grabbed his hand. They walked hand in hand to up the slope to the castle, navigating the corridors in silence till they came to the great hall entrance. The great hall was decorated for the final feast but instead of a winning house’s banners hanging from the ceiling, plain black banners with the Hogwarts monogram replaced them. The hall was dead silent as Kurt and Hermione walked down the centre aisle, when they reached the front Hermione kissed Kurt on the cheek as if giving him away at his wedding; Kurt felt like that was right, he was essentially marrying himself to the cause.

Kurt stood behind the podium and the owl opened its great wings. Kurt took a moment to breath, thinking about what he was about to say and what it would mean.

“Cedric Diggory was an upstanding young man; he was honest, loyal, friendly, caring and hard working. If you knew him then you know the grace and determination with which he approached life. I had the privilege of loving and being loved by a young wizard who thought of others before himself.

“The world will mourn this loss. The world will forever remember that day in June when it lost Cedric Diggory but that is not the only reason why that day will be remembered. That day when I lost the boy I loved will forever be remembered as a marker for the beginning of an era. You see, as we’re gathered here to memorialise Cedric we need to remember this feeling because this is only the first in a string of wakes, funerals and memorial services. Cedric was amongst the first to die because the fear that was once known by all, the fear that has taken from all of us before, the fear most will not speak of, the fear we thought gone has returned.

“Lord Voldemort has returned and it is because of him that Cedric is dead. Nobody else will tell you the truth, the ministry has forbidden those of us who know the truth from speaking but I think that lying about Cedric’s murder disservices him in death and all of you in life. Now more than ever, we need to be vigilant, transparent and decisive of which side of history we’re going to stand on.

“Most of you are children now but by the time this war is over you will all have grown; you will have done things you never believed yourself capable of, seen people you care about die or- like Cedric- died o protect someone. When Cedric stood between the Dark Lord’s will and Harry Potter, he died for each of us in spirit; Cedric didn’t know Harry particularly well but his conscious wouldn’t let him stand by and allow evil to run rampant.

“I loved Cedric so much, so quickly and without any plan to do so, I was very fortunate that he loved me just as much as I loved him. I was privileged to have gotten to know the intimate details of that boy’s life. In much the same way, you are all fortunate to be part of his legacy. To know that when the Dark Lord returned, a boy who was no different from you- other than his strong moral conviction and dedication to all he did- laid his life down for righteousness.

“If Cedric could speak to you now, what he’d say is that he lived a good life,” Kurt took a deep breath, “and he died unafraid. Take those words home with you this summer.”


End file.
